5 


c- 


Cashel  Byron's   Profession 


By    G.   BERNARD 

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Cashel  Byron's  Profession 


PKOLOGUE 


Moncrief  House,  Panley  Common.  Scholastic 
establishment  for  the  sons  of  gentlemen,  etc. 

Panley  Common,  viewed  from  the  back  windows  of 
Moncrief  House,  is  a  tract  of  grass,  furze  and  rushes, 
stretching  away  to  the  western  horizon. 

One  wet  spring  afternoon  the  sky  was  full  of  broken 
clouds,  and  the  common  was  swept  by  their  shadows, 
between  which  patches  of  green  and  yellow  gorse  were 
bright  in  the  broken  sunlight.  The  hills  to  the  north- 
ward were  obscured  by  a  heavy  shower,  traces  of  which 
were  drying  off  the  slates  of  the  school,  a  square  white 
building,  formerly  a  gentleman's  country-house.  In 
front  of  it  was  a  well-kept  lawn  with  a  few  clipped 
holly-trees.  At  the  rear,  a  quarter  of  an  acre  of  land 
was  enclosed  for  the  use  of  the  boys.  Strollers  on  the 
common  could  hear,  at  certain  hours,  a  hubbub  of 
voices  and  racing  footsteps  from  within  the  boundary 
wall.  Sometimes,  when  the  strollers  were  boys  them- 
selves, they  climbed  to  the  coping,  and  saw  on  the 

1 


' ''  '  '-'Cashe!  .'Byron's  Profession 

other  side  a  piece  of  common  trampled  bare  and  brown, 
with  a  few  square  yards  of  concrete,  so  worn  into  hol- 
lows as  to  be  unfit  for  its  original  use  as  a  ball-alley. 
Also  a  long  shed,  a  pump,  a  door  defaced  by  innumer- 
able incised  inscriptions,  the  back  of  the  house  in 
much  worse  repair  than  the  front,  and  about  fifty  boys 
in  tailless  jackets  and  broad,  turned-down  collars. 
When  the  fifty  boys  perceived  a  stranger  on  the  wall 
they  rushed  to  the  spot  with  a  wild  halloo,  over- 
whelmed him  with  insult  and  defiance,  and  dislodged 
him  by  a  volley  of  clods,  stones,  lumps  of  bread,  and 
such  other  projectiles  as  were  at  hand. 

On  this  rainy  spring  afternoon  a  brougham  stood  at 
the  door  of  Moncrief  House.  The  coachman,  envel- 
oped in  a  white  india-rubber  coat,  was  bestirring  him- 
self a  little  after  the  recent  shower.  Within -doors,  in 
the  drawing-room,  Dr.  Moncrief  was  conversing  with 
a  stately  lady  aged  about  thirty-five,  elegantly  dressed, 
of  attractive  manner,  and  only  falling  short  of  abso- 
lute beauty  in  her  complexion,  which  was  deficient  in 
freshness. 

"No  progress  whatever,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  the 
doctor  was  remarking. 

"That  is  very  disappointing,"  said  the  lady,  con- 
tracting her  brows. 

"It  is  natural  that  you  should  feel  disappointed," 
replied  the  doctor.     "  I  would  myself  earnestly  advise 

you  to  try  the  effect  of  placing  him  at  some  other " 

The  doctor  stopped.  The  lady's  face  had  lit  up  with 
a  wonderful  smile,  and  she  had  raised  her  hand  with 
a  bewitching  gesture  of  protest. 

2 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

11  Oh,  no,  Dr.  Moncrief,"  she  said.  "lam  not  dis- 
appointed with  you  ;  but  I  am  all  the  more  angry  with 
Cashel,  because  I  know  that  if  he  makes  no  progress 
with  you  it  must  be  his  own  fault.  As  to  taking  him 
away,  that  is  out  of  the  question.  I  should  not  have 
a  moment's  peace  if  he  were  out  of  your  care.  I  will 
speak  to  him  very  seriously  about  his  conduct  before 
I  leave  to-day.  You  will  give  him  another  trial,  will 
you  not?" 

' '  Certainly.  "With  the  greatest  pleasu  re, ' '  exclaimed 
the  doctor,  confusing  himself  by  an  inept  attempt  at 
gallantry.  "  He  shall  stay  as  long  as  you  please. 
But" — here  the  doctor  became  grave  again — "you 
cannot  too  strongly  urge  upon  him  the  importance  of 
hard  work  at  the  present  time,  which  may  be  said  to 
be  the  turning-point  of  his  career  as  a  student.  He 
is  now  nearly  seventeen;  and  he  has  so  little  inclina- 
tion for  study  that  I  doubt  whether  he  could  pass  the 
examination  necessary  to  entering  one  of  the  universi- 
ties. You  probably  wish  him  to  take  a  degree  before 
he  chooses  a  profession." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  the  lady,  vaguely,  evidently 
assenting  to  the  doctor's  remark  rather  than  express- 
ing a  conviction  of  her  own.  "  What  profession 
would  you  advise  for  him  ?  You  know  so  much  better 
than  I." 

"Hum!"  said  Dr.  Moncrief,  puzzled.  "That 
would  doubtless  depend  to  some  extent  on  his  own 
taste " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  lady,  interrupting  him  with 
vivacity.     ' :  What  does  he  know  about  the  world,  poor 

3 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

boy  ?  His  own  taste  is  sure  to  be  something  ridicu- 
lous. Very  likely  he  would  want  to  go  on  the  stage, 
like  me." 

' '  Oh !  Then  you  would  not  encourage  any  tendency 
of  that  sort?" 

"  Most  decidedly  not.     I  hope  he  has  no  such  idea. " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  He  shows  so  little  am- 
bition to  excel  in  any  particular  branch  that  I  should 
say  his  choice  of  a  profession  may  be  best  determined 
by  his  parents.  I  am,  of  course,  ignorant  whether  his 
relatives  possess  influence  likely  to  be  of  use  to  him. 
That  is  often  the  chief  point  to  be  considered,  particu- 
larly in  cases  like  your  son's,  where  no  special  aptitude 
manifests  itself." 

"lam  the  only  relative  he  ever  had,  poor  fellow," 
said  the  lady,  with  a  pensive  smile.  Then,  seeing  an 
expression  of  astonishment  on  the  doctor's  face,  she 
added,  quickly,  "  They  are  all  dead." 

"Dear  me!" 

"  However,"  she  continued,  "  I  have  no  doubt  I  can 
make  plenty  of  interest  for  him.  But  it  is  difficult  to 
get  anything  nowadays  without  passing  competitive 
examinations.  He  really  must  work.  If  he  is  lazy 
he  ought  to  be  punished." 

The  doctor  looked  perplexed.  "The  fact  is,"  he 
said,  "  your  son  can  hardly  be  dealt  with  as  a  child 
any  longer.  He  is  still  quite  a  boy  in  his  habits  and 
ideas;  but  physically  he  is  rapidly  springing  up  into  a 
young  man.  That  reminds  me  of  another  point  on 
which  I  will  ask  you  to  speak  earnestly  to  him.  I 
must  tell  you  that  he  has  attained  some  distinction 

4 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

among  his  school-fellows  here  as  an  athlete.  Within 
due  bounds  I  do  not  discourage  bodily  exercises :  they 
are  a  recognized  part  of  our  system.  But  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  Cashel  has  not  escaped  that  tendency  to 
violence  which  sometimes  results  from  the  possession 
of  unusual  strength  and  dexterity.  He  actually  fought 
with  one  of  the  village  youths  in  the  main  street  of 
Panley  some  months  ago.  The  matter  did  not  come 
to  my  ears  immediately;  and,  when  it  did,  I  allowed 
it  to  pass  unnoticed,  as  he  had  interfered,  it  seems,  to 
protect  one  of  the  smaller  boys.  Unfortunately  he 
was  guilty  of  a  much  more  serious  fault  a  little  later. 
He  and  a  companion  of  his  had  obtained  leave  from 
me  to  walk  to  Panley  Abbey  together.  I  afterwards 
found  that  their  real  object  was  to  witness  a  prize- 
fight that  took  place — illegally,  of  course — on  the  com- 
mon. Apart  from  the  deception  practised,  I  think 
the  taste  they  betrayed  a  dangerous  one;  and  I  felt 
bound  to  punish  them  by  a  severe  imposition,  and  re- 
striction to  the  grounds  for  six  weeks.  I  do  not  hold, 
however,  that  everything  has  been  done  in  these  cases 
when  a  boy  has  been  punished.  I  set  a  high  value  on 
a  mother's  influence  for  softening  the  natural  rough- 
ness of  boys.'' 

"  I  don't  think  he  minds  what  I  say  to  him  in  the 
least,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  sympathetic  air,  as  if  she 
pitied  the  doctor  in  a  matter  that  chiefly  concerned 
him.  "  I  will  speak  to  him  about  it,  of  course.  Fight- 
ing is  an  unbearable  habit.  His  father's  people  were 
always  fighting;  and  they  never  did  any  good  in  the 
world." 

5 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  If  you  will  be  so  kind.  There  are  just  the  three 
points:  the  necessity  for  greater — much  greater — ap- 
plication to  his  studies;  a  word  to  him  on  the  subject 
of  rough  habits;  and  to  sound  him  as  to  his  choice  of 
a  career,  I  agree  with  you  in  not  attaching  much 
importance  to  his  ideas  on  that  subject  as  yet.  Still, 
even  a  boyish  fancy  may  be  turned  to  account  in  rous- 
ing the  energies  of  a  lad." 

"Quite  so,"  assented  the  lady.  "I  will  certainly 
give  him  a  lecture." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  mistrustfully,  thinking 
perhaps  that  she  herself  would  be  the  better  for  a  lec- 
ture on  her  duties  as  a  mother.  But  he  did  not  dare 
to  tell  her  so;  indeed,  having  a  prejudice  to  the  effect 
that  actresses  were  deficient  in  natural  feeling,  he 
doubted  the  use  of  daring.  He  also  feared  that  the 
subject  of  her  son  was  beginning  to  bore  her;  and, 
though  a  doctor  of  divinity,  he  was  as  reluctant  as 
other  men  to  be  found  wanting  in  address  by  a  pretty 
woman.  So  he  rang  the  bell,  and  bade  the  servant 
send  Master  Oashel  Byron.  Presently  a  door  was 
heard  to  open  below,  and  a  buzz  of  distant  voices 
became  audible.  The  doctor  fidgeted  and  tried  to 
think  of  something  to  say,  but  his  invention  failed 
him :  he  sat  in  silence  while  the  inarticulate  buzz  rose 
into  a  shouting  of  "By-ron!"  "Cash!"  the  latter 
cry  imitated  from  the  summons  usually  addressed  to 
cashiers  in  haberdashers'  shops.  Finally  there  was  a 
piercing  yell  of  "  Mam-ma-a-a-a-ah !  "  apparently  in 
explanation  of  the  demand  for  Byron's  attendance  in 
the  drawing-room.    The  doctor  reddened.    Mrs.  Byron 

6 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

smiled.  Then  the  door  below  closed,  shutting  out  the 
tumult,  and  footsteps  were  heard  on  the  stairs. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  the  doctor,  encouragingly. 

Master  Cashel  Byron  entered  blushing;  made  his 
way  awkwardly  to  his  mother,  and  kissed  the  critical 
expression  which  was  on  her  upturned  face  as  she  ex- 
amined his  appearance.  Being  only  seventeen,  he  had 
not  yet  acquired  a  taste  for  kissing.  He  inexpertly 
gave  Mrs.  Byron  quite  a  shock  by  the  collision  of  their 
teeth.  Conscious  of  the  failure,  he  drew  himself  up- 
right, and  tried  to  hide  his  hands,  which  were  ex- 
ceedingly dirty,  in  the  scanty  folds  of  his  jacket.  He 
was  a  well-grown  youth,  with  neck  and  shoulders 
already  strongly  formed,  and  short  auburn  hair  curl- 
ing in  little  rings  close  to  his  scalp.  He  had  blue 
eyes,  and  an  expression  of  boyish  good-humor,  which, 
however,  did  not  convey  any  assurance  of  good 
temper. 

" How  do  you  do,  Cashel? "  said  Mrs.  Byron,  in  a 
queenly  manner,  after  a  prolonged  look  at  him. 

"Very  well,  thanks,"  said  he,  grinning  and  avoid- 
ing her  eye. 

"  Sit  down,  Byron/'  said  the  doctor.  Byron  sud- 
denly forgot  how  to  sit  down,  and  looked  irresolutely 
from  one  chair  to  another.  The  doctor  made  a  brief 
excuse,  and  left  the  room;  much  to  the  relief  of  his 
pupil. 

"You  have  grown  greatly,  Cashel.  And  I  am 
afraid  you  are  very  awkward."  Cashel  colored  and 
looked  gloomy. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  you,"  continued 
7 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Mrs.  Byron.     "Dr.  Moncrief  tells  me  that  you  are 
very  idle  and  rough." 

"lam  not,"  said  Cashel,  sulkily.     "  It  is  bee " 

"  There  is  no  use  in  contradicting  me  in  that  fash- 
ion," said  Mrs.  Byron,  interrupting  him  sharply.  "  I 
am  sure  that  whatever  Dr.  Moncrief  says  is  perfectly 
true." 

"  He  is  always  talking  like  that,"  said  Cashel,  plain- 
tively. "I  can't  learn  Latin  and  Greek;  and  I  don't 
see  what  good  they  are.  I  work  as  hard  as  any  of  the 
rest — except  the  regular  stews,  perhaps.  As  to  my 
being  rough,  that  is  all  because  I  was  out  one  day  with 
Gully  Molesworth,  and  we  saw  a  crowd  on  the  com- 
mon, and  when  we  went  to  see  what  was  up  it  was  two 
men  fighting.  It  wasn't  our  fault  that  they  came 
there  to  fight." 

"  Yes;  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  fifty  good  ex- 
cuses, Cashel.  But  I  will  not  allow  any  fighting;  and 
you  really  must  work  harder.  Do  you  ever  think  of 
how  hard  /  have  to  work  to  pay  Dr.  Moncrief  one 
hundred  and  twenty  pounds  a  year  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  work  as  hard  as  I  can.  Old  Moncrief  seems  to 
think  that  a  fellow  ought  to  do  nothing  else  from 
morning  till  night  but  write  Latin  verses.  Tat  ham, 
that  the  doctor  thinks  such  a  genius,  does  all  his  con- 
stering  from  cribs.  If  I  had  a  crib  I  could  conster  as 
well — very  likely  better." 

"  You  are  very  idle,  Cashel;  I  am  sure  of  that.  It 
is  too  provoking  to  throw  away  so  much  money  every 
year  for  nothing.  Besides,  you  must  soon  be  thinking 
of  a  profession." 

8 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  shall  go  into  the  army,"  said  Cashel.  "It  is 
the  only  profession  for  a  gentleman. " 

Mrs.  Byron  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if  amazed 
at  his  presumption.  But  she  checked  herself  and  only 
said,  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  choose  some  less 
expensive  profession  than  that.  Besides,  you  would 
have  to  pass  an  examination  to  enable  you  to  enter  the 
army;  and  how  can  you  do  that  unless  you  study? " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  do  that  all  right  enough  when  the 
time  comes." 

"Dear,  dear!  You  are  beginning  to  speak  so 
coarsely,  Cashel.  After  all  the  pains  I  took  with  you 
at  home! " 

"  I  speak  the  same  as  other  people,"  he  replied,  sul- 
lenly. "  I  don't  see  the  use  of  being  so  jolly  particu- 
lar over  every  syllable.  I  used  to  have  to  stand  no 
end  of  chaff  about  my  way  of  speaking.  The  fellows 
here  know  all  about  you,  of  course." 

"  All  about  me?"  repeated  Mrs.  Byron,  looking  at 
him  curiously. 

"All  about  your  being  on  the  stage,  I  mean,"  said 
Cashel.  "  You  complain  of  my  fighting;  but  I  should 
have  a  precious  bad  time  of  it  if  I  didn't  lick  the  chaff 
out  of  some  of  them." 

Mrs.  Byron  smiled  doubtfully  to  herself,  and  re- 
mained silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  rose  and  said,  glancing  at  the  weather,  "I  must 
go  now,  Cashel,  before  another  shower  begins.  And 
do,  pray,  try  to  learn  something,  and  to  polish  your 
manners  a  little.  You  will  have  to  go  to  Cambridge 
soon,  you  know." 

9 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Cambridge !  "  exclaimed  Cashel,  excited.  "  When, 
mamma  ?     When  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Not  yet.  As  soon  as  Dr. 
Moncrief  says  you  are  fit  to  go." 

"That  will  be  long  enough,"  said  Cashel,  much 
dejected  by  this  leply.  "He  will  not  turn  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  pounds  a  year  out  of  doors  in  a  hurry. 
He  kept  big  Inglis  here  until  he  was  past  twenty. 
Look  here,  mamma;  might  I  go  at  the  end  of  this 
half?  I  feel  sure  I  should  do  better  at  Cambridge 
than  here." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  decidedly.  "I  do 
not  expect  to  have  to  take  you  away  from  Dr. 
Moncrief  for  the  next  eighteen  months  at  least, 
and  not  then  unless  you  work  properly.  Now  don't 
grumble,  Cashel;  you  annoy  me  exceedingly  when 
you  do.      I  am  sorry  I    mentioned    Cambridge  to 


)> 


you. 

"I  would  rather  go  to  some  other  school,  then," 
said  Cashel,  ruefully.  "  Old  Moncrief  is  so  awfully 
down  on  me." 

"  You  only  want  to  leave  because  you  are  expected 
to  work  here;  and  that  is  the  very  reason  I  wish  you 
to  stay." 

Cashel  made  no  reply;  but  his  face  darkened  omin- 
ously. 

"  t  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  doctor  before  I  go," 
she  added,  reseating  herself.  "  You  may  return  to 
yo:ir  play  now.  Good-bye,  Cashel."  And  she  again 
raised  her  face  to  be  kissed. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Cashel,  huskily,  as  he  turned  to* 
10 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ward  the  door,  pretending  that  he  had  not  noticed 
her  action. 

"  Cashel !  "  she  said,  with  emphatic  surprise.  "  Are 
you  sulky?  " 

"No,"  he  retorted,  angrily.  "I  haven't  said  any- 
thing. I  suppose  my  manners  are  not  good  enough. 
I'm  very  sorry;  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  firmly.  "You  can 
go,  Cashel.     I  am  not  pleased  with  you." 

Cashel  walked  out  of  the  room  and  slammed  the 
door.  At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  he  was  stopped  by  a 
boy  about  a  year  younger  than  himself,  who  accosted 
him  eagerly. 

"  How  much  did  she  give  you  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"Not  a  halfpenny,"  replied  Cashel,  grinding  his 
teeth. 

"Oh,  I  say!"  exclaimed  the  other,  much  disap- 
pointed.    "  That  was  beastly  mean." 

"  She's  as  mean  as  she  can  be,"  said  Cashel.  "  It's 
all  old  Monkey's  fault.  He  has  been  cramming  her 
with  lies  about  me.  But  she's  j  ust  as  bad  as  he  is.  I 
tell  you,  Gully,  I  hate  my  mother." 

"Oh,  come!"  said  Gully,  shocked.  "That's  a 
little  too  strong,  old  chap.  But  she  certainly  ought 
to  have  stood  something." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  intend  to  do,  Gully;  but  I 
mean  to  bolt.  If  she  thinks  I  am  going  to  stick  here 
for  the  next  two  years  she  is  jolly  much  mistaken." 

"It  would  be  an  awful  lark  to  bolt,"  said  Gully, 
with  a  chuckle.  "  But,"  he  added,  seriously,  "  if  you 
really  mean  it,  by  George,  I'll  go  too!    Wilson  has 

11 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

just  given  me  a  thousand  lines;  and  I'll  be  hanged  if 
I  do  them." 

"  Gully,"  said  Cashel,  his  eyes  sparkling,  "  I  should 
like  to  see  one  of  those  chaps  we  saw  on  the  common 
pitch  into  the  doctor — get  him  on  the  ropes,  you 
know." 

Gully's  mouth  watered.  "Yes,"  he  said,  breath* 
lessly;  "  particularly  the  fellow  they  called  the  Fibber, 
Just  one  round  would  be  enough  for  the  old  beggar. 
Let's  come  out  into  the  playground;  I  shall  catch  it 
if  I  am  found  here." 


II 


That  night  there  was  just  sufficient  light  struggling 
through  the  clouds  to  make  Pauley  Common  visible  as 
a  black  expanse,  against  the  lightest  tone  of  which  a 
piece  of  ebony  would  have  appeared  pale.  Not  a 
human  being  was  stirring  within  a  mile  of  Moncrief 
House,  the  chimneys  of  which,  ghostly  white  on  the 
side  next  the  moon,  threw*  long  shadows  on  the  silver- 
gray  slates.  The  stillness  had  just  been  broken  by  the 
stroke  of  a  quarter  past  twelve  from  a  distant  church 
tower,  when,  from  the  obscurity  of  one  of  these  chim- 
ney shadows,  a  head  emerged.  It  belonged  to  a  boy, 
whose  body  presently  wriggled  through  an  open  sky- 
light. When  his  shoulders  were  through  he  turned 
himself  face  upward,  seized  the  miniature  gable  in 
which  the  skylight  was  set,  drew  himself  completely 
out,  and  made  his  way  stealthily  down  to  the  parapet. 
He  was  immediately  followed  by  another  boy. 

The  door  of  Moncrief  House  was  at  the  left-hand 
corner  of  the  front,  and  was  surmounted  by  a  tall 
porch,  the  top  of  which  was  flat  and  could  be  used  as 
a  balcony.  A  wall,  of  the  same  height  as  the  porch, 
connected  the  house  front  with  the  boundary  wall, 
and  formed  part  of  the  enclosure  of  a  fruit  garden 
which  lay  at  the  side  of  the  house  between  the  lawn 
and  the  playground.     When  the  two  boys  had  crept 

13 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

along  the  parapet  to  a  point  directly  above  the  porch 
they  stopped,  and  each  lowered  a  pair  of  boots  to  the 
balcony  by  means  of  fishing-lines.  When  the  boots 
were  safely  landed,  their  owners  let  the  lines  drop  and 
reentered  the  house  by  another  skylight.  A  minute 
elapsed.  Then  they  reappeared  on  the  top  of  the 
porch,  having  come  out  through  the  window  to  which 
it  served  as  a  balcony.  Here  they  put  on  their 
boots,  and  stepped  on  to  the  wall  of  the  fruit  gar- 
den. As  they  crawled  along  it,  the  hindmost  boy 
whispered. 

"I  say,  Cashy." 

"Shut  up,  will  you,"  replied  the  other  under  his 
breath.     "  What's  wrong  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  have  one  more  go  at  old  mother 
Moncrief's  pear-tree;  that's  all." 

"  There  are  no  pears  on  it  this  season,  you  fool." 

"  I  know.  This  is  the  last  time  we  shall  go  this 
road,  Cashy.     Usen't  it  to  be  a  lark  ?    Eh  ?  " 

"If  you  don't  shut  up,  it  won't  be  the  last  time; 
for  you'll  be  caught.     Now  for  it." 

Cashel  had  reached  the  outer  wall,  and  he  finished 
his  sentence  by  dropping  from  it  to  the  common. 
Gully  held  his  breath  for  some  moments  after  the 
noise  made  by  his  companion's  striking  the  ground. 
Then  he  demanded  in  a  whisper  whether  all  was 
right. 

"Yes,"  returned  Cashel,  impatiently.  "Drop  as 
soft  as  you  can." 

Gully  obeyed;  and  was  so  careful  lest  his  descent 
should  shake  the  earth  and  awake  the  doctor,  that  his 

14 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

feet  shrank  from  the  concussion.  He  alighted  in  a 
sitting  posture,  and  remained  there,  looking  up  at 
Cashel  with  a  stunned  expression. 

"Crikey!"  he  ejaculated,  presently.  "That  was 
a  buster." 

"  Get  up,  I  tell  you,"  said  Cashel.  "  I  never  saw 
such  a  jolly  ass  as  you  are.  Here,  up  with  you !  Have 
you  got  your  wind  back  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so.  Bet  you  twopence  I'll  be  first 
at  the  cross  roads.  I  say,  let's  pull  the  bell  at  the 
front  gate  and  give  an  awful  yell  before  we  start. 
They'll  never  catch  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cashel,  ironically;  "  I  fancy  I  see  my- 
self doing  it,  or  you  either.  Now  then.  One,  two, 
three,  and  away." 

They  ran  off  together,  and  reached  the  cross  rp^!.* 
about  eight  minutes  later;  Gully  completely  out  of 
breath,  and  Cashel  nearly  so.  Here,  according  to 
their  plan,  Gully  was  to  take  the  north  road  and  run 
to  Scotland,  where  he  felt  sure  that  his  uncle's  game- 
keeper would  hide  him.  Cashel  was  to  go  te  sea; 
where,  he  argued,  he  could,  if  his  affairs  became  des- 
perate, turn  pirate,  and  achieve  eminence  uO  jhat  pro- 
fession by  adding  a  chivalrous  humanity  to  the  ruder 
virtues  for  which  it  is  already  famous. 

Cashel  waited  until  Gully  had  recovered  from  his 
race.     Then  he  said. 

"  Now,  old  fellow,  we've  got  to  separate." 

Gully,  thus  confronted  with  the  lonely  realities  of 
his  scheme,  did  not  like  the  prospect.  After  a  men 
ment's  reflection  he  exclaimed : 

15 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Damme,  old  chap,  but  I'll  come  with  you.  Scot- 
land may  go  and  be  hanged." 

But  Cashel,  being  the  stronger  of  the  two,  was  as 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  Gully  as  Gully  was  to  cling  to 
him.  "JSTo,"  he  said;  "I'm  going  to  rough  it;  and 
you  wouldn't  be  able  for  that.  You're  not  strong 
enough  for  a  sea  life.  "Why,  man,  those  sailor  fellows 
are  as  hard  as  nails;  and  even  they  can  hardly  stand  it." 

"  Well,  then,  do  you  come  with  me,"  urged  Gully. 
"  My  uncle's  gamekeeper  won't  mind.  He's  a  jolly 
good  sort;  and  we  shall  have  no  end  of  shooting." 

"That's  all  very  well  for  you,  Gully;  but  I  don't 
know  your  uncle;  and  I'm  not  going  to  put  myself 
under  a  compliment  to  his  gamekeeper.  Besides,  we 
should  run  too  much  risk  of  being  caught  if  we  went 
through  the  country  together.  Of  course  I  should  be 
only  too  glad  if  we  could  stick  to  one  another,  but  it 
wouldn't  do;  I  feel  certain  we  should  be  nabbed. 
Good-bye." 

"  But  wait  a  minute,"  pleaded  Gully.  "  Suppose 
they  d/>  try  to  catch  us;  we  shall  have  a  better  chance 
against  them  if  there  are  two  of  us." 

"Stuff**"'  said  Cashel.  "That's  all  boyish  non- 
sense. There  will  be  at  least  six  policemen  sent  after 
us;  and  even  if  I  did  my  very  best,  I  could  barely  lick 
two  if  they  came  on  together.  And  you  would  hardly 
be  able  for  one.  You  just  keep  moving,  and  don't  go 
near  any  railway  station,  and  you  will  get  to  Scotland 
all  safe  enough.  Look  here,  we  have  wasted  five  min- 
utes already.  I  have  got  my  wind  now,  and  I  must 
be  off.     Good-bye." 

16 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Gully  disdained  to  press  his  company  on  Cashel  any 
further.  "Good-bye,"  he  said,  mournfully  shaking 
his  hand.     "  Success,  old  chap." 

"Success,"  echoed  Cashel,  grasping  Gully's  hand 
with  a  pang  of  remorse  for  leaving  him.  "  I'll  write 
to  you  as  soon  as  I  have  anything  to  tell  you.  It  may 
be  some  months,  you  know,  before  I  get  regularly 
settled." 

He  gave  Gully  a  final  squeeze,  released  him,  and 
darted  off  along  the  road  leading  to  Panley  Village. 
Gully  looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  ran 
away  Scotlandwards. 

Panley  Village  consisted  of  a  High  Street,  with  an 
old-fashioned  inn  at  one  end,  a  modern  railway  station 
and  bridge  at  the  other,  and  a  pump  and  pound  mid- 
way between.  Cashel  stood  for  a  while  in  the  shadow 
under  the  bridge  before  venturing  along  the  broad, 
moonlit  street.  Seeing  no  one,  he  stepped  out  at  a 
brisk  walking  pace ;  for  he  had  by  this  time  reflected 
that  it  was  not  possible  to  run  all  the  way  to  the  Span- 
ish main.  There  was,  however,  another  person  stir- 
ring in  the  village  besides  Cashel.  This  was  Mr.  Wil- 
son, Dr.  Moncrief's  professor  of  mathematics,  who 
was  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  theatre.  Mr.  Wilson 
had  an  impression  that  theatres  were  wicked  places, 
to  be  visited  by  respectable  men  only  on  rare  occasions 
and  by  stealth.  The  only  plays  he  went  openly  to 
witness  were  those  of  Shakespeare;  and  his  favorite 
was  "  As  You  Like  It ";  Eosalind  in  tights  having  an 
attraction  for  him  which  he  missed  in  Lady  Macbeth 
in  petticoats.  On  this  evening  he  had  seen  Rosalind 
2  17 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

impersonated  by  a  famous  actress,  who  had  come  to  a 
neighboring  town  on  a  starring  tour.  After  the  per- 
formance he  had  returned  to  Panley,  supped  there 
with  a  friend,  and  was  now  making  his  way  back  to 
Moncrief  House,  of  which  he  had  been  intrusted  with 
the  key.  He  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  favorable  for  the 
capture  of  a  runaway  boy.  An  habitual  delight  in 
being  too  clever  for  his  pupils,  fostered  by  frequently 
overreaching  them  in  mathematics,  was  just  now  stimu- 
lated by  the  effect  of  a  liberal  supper  and  the  roguish 
consciousness  of  having  been  to  the  play.  He  saw  and 
recognized  Cashel  as  he  approached  the  village  pound. 
Understanding  the  situation  at  once,  he  hid  behind 
the  pump,  waited  until  the  unsuspecting  truant  was 
passing  within  arm's-length,  and  then  stepped  out 
and  seized  him  by  the  collar  of  his  jacket. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said.  "  What  are  you  doing  here 
at  this  hour?    Eh?" 

Cashel,  scared  and  white,  looked  up  at  him,  and 
could  not  answer  a  word. 

"  Come  along  with  me,"  said  Wilson,  sternly. 

Cashel  suffered  himself  to  be  led  for  some  twenty 
yards.     Then  he  stopped  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  my  going  back,"  he  said,  sob- 
bing. "  I  have  never  done  any  good  there.  I  can't 
go  back." 

"Indeed,"  said  Wilson,  with  magisterial  sarcasm. 
"We  shall  try  to  make  you  do  better  in  future." 
And  he  forced  the  fugitive  to  resume  his  march. 

Cashel,  bitterly  humiliated  by  his  own  tears,  and  ex- 
asperated by  a  certain  cold  triumph  which  his  captor 

18 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

evinced  on  witnessing  them,  did  not  go  many  steps 
farther  without  protest. 

"  You  needn't  hold  me,"  he  said,  angrily;  "  I  can 
walk  without  being  held."  The  master  tightened  his 
grasp  and  pushed  his  captive  forward.  "  I  won't  run 
away,  sir,"  said  Cashel,  more  humbly,  shedding  fresh 
tears.  "  Please  let  me  go,"  he  added,  in  a  suffocated 
voice,  trying  to  turn  his  face  toward  his  captor.  But 
Wilson  twisted  him  back  again,  and  urged  him  still 
onward.  Cashel  cried  out  passionately,  "  Let  me  go," 
and  struggled  to  break  loose. 

"  Come,  come,  Byron,"  said  the  master,  controlling 
him  with  a  broad,  strong  hand;  "none  of  your  non- 
sense, sir." 

Then  Cashel  suddenly  slipped  out  of  his  jacket, 
turned  on  Wilson,  and  struck  up  at  him  savagely  with 
his  right  fist.  The  master  received  the  blow  just 
beside  the  point  of  his  chin;  and  his  eyes  seemed  to 
Cashel  to  roll  up  and  fall  back  into  his  head  with  the 
shock.  He  drooped  forward  for  a  moment,  and  fell 
in  a  heap  face  downward.  Cashel  recoiled,  wringing 
his  hand  to  relieve  the  tingling  of  his  knuckles,  and 
terrified  by  the  thought  that  he  had  committed  mur- 
der. But  Wilson  presently  moved  and  dispelled  that 
misgiving.  Some  of  CaehePs  fury  returned  as  he 
shook  his  fist  at  his  prostrate  adversary,  and,  exclaim- 
ing, "  You  won't  brag  much  of  having  seen  me  cry," 
wrenched  the  jacket  from  him  with  unnecessary 
violence,  and  darted  away  at  full  speed. 

Mr.  Wilson,  though  he  was  soon  conscious  and  able 
to  rise,  did  not  feel  disposed  to  stir  for  a  long  time. 

19 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

He  began  to  moan  with  a  dazed  faith  that  some  one 
would  eventually  come  to  him  with  sympathy  and 
assistance.  Five  minutes  elapsed,  and  brought  noth- 
ing but  increased  cold  and  pain.  It  occurred  to  him 
that  if  the  police  found  him  they  would  suppose  him 
to  be  drunk;  also  that  it  was  his  duty  to  go  to  them 
and  give  them  the  alarm.  He  rose,  and,  after  a  strug- 
gle with  dizziness  and  nausea,  concluded  that  his  most 
pressing  duty  was  to  get  to  bed,  and  leave  Dr.  Mon- 
crief  to  recapture  his  ruffianly  pupil  as  best  he  could. 

Accordingly,  at  half-past  one  o'clock,  the  doctor 
was  roused  by  a  knocking  at  his  chamber-door,  outside 
which  he  presently  found  his  professor  of  mathematics, 
bruised,  muddy,  and  apparently  inebriated.  Five  min- 
utes elapsed  before  Wilson  could  get  his  principal's 
mind  on  the  right  track.  Then  the  boys  were  awak- 
ened and  the  roll  called.  Byron  and  Molesworth  were 
reported  absent.  No  one  had  seen  them  go;  no  one 
had  the  least  suspicion  of  how  they  got  out  of  the 
house.  One  little  boy  mentioned  the  skylight;  but 
observing  a  threatening  expression  on  the  faces  of  a 
few  of  the  bigger  boys,  who  were  fond  of  fruit,  he  did 
not  press  his  suggestion,  and  submitted  to  be  snubbed 
by  the  doctor  for  having  made  it.  It  was  nearly  three 
o'clock  before  the  alarm  reached  the  village,  where  the 
authorities  tacitly  declined  to  trouble  themselves  about 
it  until  morning.  The  doctor,  convinced  that  the  lad 
had  gone  to  his  mother,  did  not  believe  that  any 
search  was  necessary,  and  contented  himself  with  writ- 
ing a  note  to  Mrs.  Byron  describing  the  attack  on  Mr. 
Wilson,  and  expressing  regret  that  no  proposal  having 

20 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

for  its  object  the  readmission  of  Master  Byron  to  the 
academy  could  be  entertained. 

The  pursuit  was  now  directed  entirely  after  Moles- 
worth,  as  it  was  plain,  from  Mr.  Wilson's  narrative, 
that  he  had  separated  from  Cashel  outside  Panley. 
Information  was  soon  forthcoming.  Peasants  in  all 
parts  of  the  country  had  seen,  they  said,  "  a  lad  that 
might  be  him."  The  search  lasted  until  five  o'clock 
next  afternoon,  when  it  was  rendered  superfluous  by 
the  appearance  of  Gully  in  person,  footsore  and  re- 
pentant. After  parting  from  Cashel  and  walking  two 
miles,  he  had  lost  heart  and  turned  back.  Half  way 
to  the  cross  roads  he  had  reproached  himself  with  cow- 
ardice, and  resumed  his  flight.  This  time  he  placed 
eight  miles  betwixt  himself  and  Moncrief  House. 
Then  he  left  the  road  to  make  a  short  cut  through  a 
plantation,  and  went  astray.  After  wandering  until 
morning,  thinking  dejectedly  of  the  story  of  the  babes 
in  the  wood,  he  saw  a  woman  working  in  a  field,  and 
asked  her  the  shortest  way  to  Scotland.  She  had 
never  heard  of  Scotland;  and  when  he  asked  the  way 
to  Panley  she  lost  patience  and  threatened  to  set  her 
dog  at  him.  This  discouraged  him  so  much  that  he 
was  afraid  to  speak  to  the  other  strangers  whom  he 
met.  Having  the  sun  as  a  compass,  he  oscillated  be- 
tween Scotland  and  Panley  according  to  the  fluctua- 
tion of  his  courage.  At  last  he  yielded  to  hunger, 
fatigue,  and  loneliness,  devoted  his  remaining  energy 
to  the  task  of  getting  back  to  school;  struck  the  com- 
mon at  last,  and  hastened  to  surrender  himself  to  the 
doctor,  who  menaced  him  with  immediate  expulsion. 

21 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Gully  was  greatly  concerned  at  having  to  leave  the 
place  he  had  just  run  away  from,  and  earnestly  begged 
the  doctor  to  give  him  another  chance.  His  prayer 
was  granted.  After  a  prolonged  lecture,  the  doctor, 
in  consideration  of  the  facts  that  Gully  had  been 
seduced  by  the  example  of  a  desperate  associate,  that 
he  had  proved  the  sincerity  of  his  repentance  by  com- 
ing back  of  his  own  accord,  and  had  not  been  accessory 
to  the  concussion  of  the  brain  from  which  Mr.  Wilson 
supposed  himself  to  be  suffering,  accepted  his  promise 
of  amendment  and  gave  him  a  free  pardon.  It  should 
be  added  that  Gully  kept  his  promise,  and,  being  now 
the  oldest  pupil,  graced  his  position  by  becoming  a 
moderately  studious,  and,  on  one  occasion,  even  a 
sensible  lad. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Byron,  not  suspecting  the  impor- 
tance of  the  doctor's  note,  and  happening  to  be  in  a 
hurry  when  it  arrived,  laid  it  by  unopened,  intending 
to  read  it  at  her  leisure.  She  would  have  forgotten  it 
altogether  but  for  a  second  note  which  came  two  days 
later,  requesting  some  acknowledgment  of  the  previous 
communication.  On  learning  the  truth  she  immedi- 
ately drove  to  Moncrief  House,  and  there  abused  the 
doctor  as  he  had  never  been  abused  in  his  life  before ; 
after  which  she  begged  his  pardon,  and  implored  him 
to  assist  her  to  recover  her  darling  boy.  When  he 
suggested  that  she  should  oifer  a  reward  for  informa- 
tion and  capture  she  indignantly  refused  to  spend  a 
farthing  on  the  little  ingrate;  wept  and  accused  her- 
self of  having  driven  him  away  by  her  unkindness; 
stormed  and  accused  the  doctor  of  having  treated 

22 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

him  harshly;  and,  finally,  said  that  she  would  give 
one  hundred  pounds  to  have  him  back,  but  that  she 
would  never  speak  to  him  again.  The  doctor  prom- 
ised to  undertake  the  search,  and  would  have  promised 
anything  to  get  rid  of  his  visitor.  A  reward  of  fifty 
pounds  was  offered.  But  whether  the  fear  of  falling 
into  the  clutches  of  the  law  for  murderous  assault 
stimulated  Cashel  to  extraordinary  precaution,  or 
whether  he  had  contrived  to  leave  the  country  in  the 
four  days  which  elapsed  between  his  flight  and  the 
offer  of  the  reward,  the  doctor's  efforts  were  unsuc- 
cessful; and  he  had  to  confess  their  failure  to  Mrs. 
Byron.  She  agreeably  surprised  him  by  writing  a 
pleasant  letter  to  the  effect  that  it  was  very  provoking, 
and  that  she  could  never  thank  him  sufficiently  for 
all  the  trouble  he  had  taken.  And  so  the  matter 
dropped. 

Long  after  that  generation  of  scholars  had  passed 
away  from  Moncrief  House,  the  name  of  Cashel  Byron 
was  remembered  there  as  that  of  a  hero  who,  after 
many  fabulous  exploits,  had  licked  a  master  and  bolted 
to  the  Spanish  Main. 


23 


Ill 


There  was  at  this  time  in  the  city  of  Melbourne,  in 
Australia,  a  wooden  building,  above  the  door  of  which 
was  a  board  inscribed  "  Gymnasium  and  School  of 
Arms."  In  the  long,  narrow  entry  hung  a  framed 
manuscript  which  set  forth  that  Ned  Skene,  ex-cham- 
pion of  England  and  the  colonies,  was  to  be  heard  of 
within  daily  by  gentlemen  desirous  of  becoming  pro- 
ficient in  the  art  of  self-defence.  Also  the  terms  on 
which  Mrs.  Skene,  assisted  by  a  competent  staff  of  pro- 
fessors, would  give  lessons  in  dancing,  deportment, 
and  calisthenics. 

One  evening  a  man  safc  smoking  on  a  common  wooden 
chair  outside  the  door  of  this  establishment.  On  the 
ground  beside  him  were  some  tin  tacks  and  a  hammer, 
with  which  he  had  just  nailed  to  the  doorpost  a  card 
on  which  was  written  in  a  woman's  handwriting; 
"  Wanted  a  male  attendant  who  can  keep  accounts, 
Inquire  within. ,"  The  smoker  was  a  powerful  man, 
with  a  thick  neck  that  swelled  out  beneath  his  broad, 
flat  ear-lobes.  He  had  small  eyes,  and  large  teeth, 
over  which  his  lips  were  slightly  parted  in  a  good- 
humored  but  cunning  smile.  His  hair  was  black  and 
close-cut;  his  skin  indurated;  and  the  bridge  of  hi& 
nose  smashed  level  with  his  face.  The  tip,  however, 
was  uninjured.     It  was  squab  and  glossy,  and,  by  giv- 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ing  the  whole  feature  an  air  of  being  on  the  point  of 
expanding  to  its  original  shape,  produced  a  snubbed 
expression  which  relieved  the  otherwise  formidable 
aspect  of  the  man,  and  recommended  him  as  probably 
a  modest  and  affable  fellow  when  sober  and  unpro^ 
voked.  He  seemed  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  was 
clad  in  a  straw  hat  and  a  suit  of  white  linen. 

He  had  just  finished  his  pipe  when  a  youth  stopped 
to  read  the  card  on  the  doorpost.  This  youth  was 
attired  in  a  coarse  sailor's  jersey  and  a  pair  of  gray 
tweed  trousers,  which  he  had  considerably  outgrown. 

"Looking  for  a  job?"  inquired  the  ex-champion 
of  England  and  the  colonies. 

The  youth  blushed  and  replied,  "Yes.  I  should 
like  to  get  something  to  do." 

Mr.  Skene  stared  at  him  with  stern  curiosity.  His 
professional  pursuits  had  familiarized  him  with  the 
manners  and  speech  of  English  gentlemen,  and  he  im- 
mediately recognized  the  shabby  sailor  lad  as  one  of 
that  class. 

"  Perhaps  you're  a  scholar,"  said  the  prize-fighter, 
after  a  moment's  reflection. 

"I  have  been  at  school;  but  I  didn't  learn  much 
there,"  replied  the  youth.  "I  think  I  could  book- 
keep  by  double  entry,"  he  added,  glancing  at  the  card. 

1 '  Double  entry !     What's  that  ?  ' ' 

"It's  the  way  merchants'  books  are  kept.  It  is 
called  so  because  everything  is  entered  twice  over." 

"Ah!"  said  Skene,  unfavorably  impressed  by  the 
system;  "once  is  enough  for  me.  What's  your 
weight?" 

25 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  lad,  with  a  grin. 

"Not  know  your  own  weight!"  exclaimed  Skene. 
"  That  ain't  the  way  to  get  on  in  life." 

"  I  haven't  been  weighed  since  I  was  in  England," 
said  the  other,  beginning  to  get  the  better  of  his  shy- 
ness. "  I  was  eight  stone  four  then;  so  you  see  I  am 
only  a  light-weight." 

' '  And  what  do  you  know  about  light-weights  ?  Per- 
haps, being  so  well  educated,  you  know  how  to  fight. 
Eh?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  fight  you,"  said  the  youth, 
with  another  grin. 

Skene  chuckled;  and  the  stranger,  with  boyish  com- 
municativeness, gave  him  an  account  of  a  real  fight 
(meaning,  apparently,  one  between  professional  pugil- 
ists) which  he  had  seen  in  England.  He  went  on  to 
describe  how  he  had  himself  knocked  down  a  master 
with  one  blow  when  running  away  from  school.  Skene 
received  this  sceptically,  and  cross-examined  the  nar- 
rator as  to  the  manner  and  effect  of  the  blow,  with  the 
result  of  convincing  himself  that  the  story  was  true. 
At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  lad  had  com- 
mended himself  so  favorably  by  his  conversation  that 
the  champion  took  him  into  the  gymnasium,  weighed 
him,  measured  him,  and  finally  handed  him  a  pair  of 
boxing  gloves  and  invited  him  to  show  what  he  was 
made  of.  The  youth,  though  impressed  by  the  prize- 
fighter's attitude  with  a  hopeless  sense  of  the  impossi- 
bility of  reaching  him,  rushed  boldly  at  him  several 
times,  knocking  his  face  on  each  occasion  against 
Skene's  left  fist,  which  seemed  to  be  ubiquitous,  and 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

to  have  the  property  of  imparting  the  consistency  of 
iron  to  padded  leather.  At  last  the  novice  directed  a 
frantic  assault  at  the  champion's  nose,  rising  on  his 
toes  in  his  excitement  as  he  did  so.  Skene  struck  up 
the  blow  with  his  right  arm,  and  the  impetuous  youth 
spun  and  stumbled  away  until  he  fell  supine  in  a  cor- 
ner, rapping  his  head  smartly  on  the  floor  at  the  same 
time.  He  rose  with  unabated  cheerfulness  and  offered 
to  continue  the  combat;  but  Skene  declined  any  fur- 
ther exercise  just  then,  and,  much  pleased  with  his 
novice's  game,  promised  to  give  him  a  scientific  edu- 
cation and  make  a  man  of  him. 

The  champion  now  sent  for  his  wife,  whom  he  re- 
vered as  a  preeminently  sensible  and  well-mannered 
woman.  The  newcomer  could  see  in  her  only  a  ridicu- 
lous dancing-mistress;  but  he  treated  her  with  great 
deference,  and  thereby  improved  the  favorable  opinion 
which  Skene  had  already  formed  of  him.  He  related 
to  her  how,  after  running  away  from  school,  he  had 
made  his  way  to  Liverpool,  gone  to  the  docks,  and 
contrived  to  hide  himself  on  board  a  ship  bound  for 
Australia.  Also  how  he  had  suffered  severely  from 
hunger  and  thirst  before  he  discovered  himself;  and 
how,  notwithstanding  his  unpopular  position  as  stow- 
away, he  had  been  fairly  treated  as  soon  as  he  had 
shown  that  he  was  willing  to  work.  And  in  proof 
that  he  was  sfcill  willing,  and  had  profited  by  his  mari- 
time experience,  he  offered  to  sweep  the  floor  of  the 
gymnasium  then  and  there.  This  proposal  convinced 
the  Skenes,  who  had  listened  to  his  story  like  children 
listening  to  a  fairy  tale,  that  he  was  not  too  much  of 

27 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

a  gentleman  to  do  rough  work,  and  it  was  presently- 
arranged  that  he  should  thenceforth  board  and  lodge 
with  them,  have  five  shillings  a  week  for  pocket- 
money,  and  be  man-of -all-work,  servant,  gymnasium- 
attendant,  clerk,  and  apprentice  to  the  ex-champion 
of  England  and  the  colonies. 

He  soon  found  bis  bargain  no  easy  one.  The  gym- 
nasium was  open  from  nine  in  the  morning  until 
eleven  at  night,  and  the  athletic  gentlemen  who  came 
there  not  only  ordered  him  about  without  ceremony, 
but  varied  the  monotony  of  being  set  at  naught  by  the 
invincible  Skene  by  practising  what  he  taught  them 
on  the  person  of  his  apprentice,  whom  they  pounded 
with  great  relish,  and  threw  backwards,  forwards,  and 
over  their  shoulders  as  though  he  had  been  but  a  sense- 
less effigy,  provided  for  that  purpose.  Meanwhile  the 
champion  looked  on  and  laughed,  being  too  lazy  to 
redeem  his  promise  of  teaching  the  novice  to  defend 
himself.  The  latter,  however,  watched  the  lessons 
which  he  saw  daily  given  to  others,  and,  before  the 
end  of  a  month,  he  so  completely  turned  the  tables  on 
the  amateur  pugilists  of  Melbourne  that  Skene  one 
day  took  occasion  to  remark  that  he  was  growing  un- 
common clever,  but  that  gentlemen  liked  to  be  played 
easy  with,  and  that  he  should  be  careful  not  to  knock 
them  about  too  much.  Besides  these  bodily  exertions, 
he  had  to  keep  account  of  gloves  and  foils  sold  and 
bought,  and  of  the  fees  due  both  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Skene.  This  was  the  most  irksome  part  of  his  duty; 
for  he  wrote  a  large,  schoolboy  hand,  and  was  not 
quick  at  figures.     When  he  at  last  began  to  assist  his 

28 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

master  in  giving  lessons  the  accounts  had  fallen  into 
arrear,  and  Mrs.  Skene  had  to  resume  her  former  care 
of  them ;  a  circumstance  which  gratified  her  husband, 
who  regarded  it  as  a  fresh  triumph  of  her  superior  in- 
telligence. Then  a  Chinaman  was  engaged  to  do  the 
more  menial  work  of  the  establishment.  "  Skene's 
novice,"  as  he  was  now  generally  called,  was  elevated 
to  the  rank  of  assistant  professor  to  the  champion, 
and  became  a  person  of  some  consequence  in  the  gym- 
nasium. 

He  had  been  there  more  than  nine  months,  and  had 
developed  from  an  active  youth  into  an  athletic  young 
man  of  eighteen,  when  an  important  conversation  took 
place  between  him  and  his  principal.  It  was  evening, 
and  the  only  persons  in  the  gymnasium  were  Ned 
Skene,  who  sat  smoking  at  his  ease  with  his  coat  off, 
and  the  novice,  who  had  just  come  down-stairs  from 
his  bedroom,  where  he  had  been  preparing  for  a  visit 
to  the  theatre. 

"Well,  my  gentleman,"  said  Skene,  mockingly; 
M you're  a  fancy  man,  you  are.  Gloves  too!  They're 
too  small  for  you.  Don't  you  get  hittin'  nobody  with 
them  on,  or  you'll  mebbe  sprain  your  wrist." 

"Not  much  fear  of  that,"  said  the  novice,  looking 
at  his  watch,  and,  finding  that  he  had  some  minutes 
to  spare,  sitting  down  opposite  Skene. 

"No,"  assented  the  champion.  "When  you  rise 
to  be  a  regular  professional  you  won't  care  to  spar 
with  nobody  without  you're  well  paid  xor  it,*' 

"I  may  say  I  am  in  the  profession  already.  You 
don't  call  me  an  amateur,  do  you  ?  " 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Skene,  soothingly  ;  "  not  so  bad  as 
that.  But  mind  you,  my  boy,  I  don't  call  no  man  a 
fighting-man  what  ain't  been  in  the  ring.  You're  a 
sparrer,  and  a  clever,  pretty  sparrer;  but  sparring 
ain't  the  real  thing.  Some  day,  please  God,  we'll 
make  up  a  little  match  for  you,  and  show  what  you 
can  do  without  the  gloves." 

"I  would  just  as  soon  have  the  gloves  off  as  on," 
said  the  novice,  a  little  sulkily. 

"  That's  because  you  have  a  heart  as  big  as  a  lion," 
said  Skene,  patting  him  on  the  shoulder.  But  the 
novice,  who  was  accustomed  to  hear  his  master  pay  the 
same  compliment  to  his  patrons  whenever  they  were 
seized  with  fits  of  boasting  (which  usually  happened 
bfcen  they  got  beaten),  looked  obdurate  and  said 
nothing. 

"  Sam  Ducket,  of  Milltown,  was  here  to-day  while 
you  was  out  giving  Captain  Noble  his  lesson,"  con- 
tinued Skene,  watching  his  apprentice's  face  cun- 
ningly. "Now  Sam  is  a  real  fighting-man,  if  you 
like." 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  him.  He's  a  liar,  for  one 
thing." 

"  That's  a  failing  of  the  profession.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  so,"  said  Skene,  mournfully.  Now  the 
novice  had  found  out  this  for  himself,  already.  He 
never,  for  instance,  believed  the  accounts  which  his 
master  gave  of  the  accidents  and  conspiracies  which 
had  led  to  his  being  defeated  three  times  in  the  ring. 
However,  as  Skene  had  won  fifteen  battles,  his  next 
remark  was  undeniable.     "  Men  fight  none  the  worse 

30 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

for  being  liars.     Sam  Ducket  bet  Ebony  Muley  in 
twenty  minutes." 

"Yes,"  said  the  novice,  scornfully;  "and  what  is 
Ebony  Muley?  A  wretched  old  nigger  nearly  sixty 
years  old,  who  is  drunk  seven  days  in  the  week,  and 
would  sell  a  fight  for  a  glass  of  brandy !  Ducket  ought 
to  have  knocked  him  out  of  time  in  seventy  seconds. 
Ducket  has  no  science." 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Ned.  "But  he  has  lots  of 
game." 

"  Pshaw!  Come,  now,  Ned;  you  know  as  well  as  I 
do  that  that  is  one  of  the  stalest  commonplaces  going. 
If  a  fellow  knows  how  to  box,  they  always  say  he  has 
science  but  no  pluck.  If  he  doesn't  know  his  right 
hand  from  his  left,  they  say  that  he  isn't  clever  h 
that  he  is  full  of  game. " 

Skene  looked  with  secret  wonder  at  his  pupil,  whose 
powers  of  observation  and  expression  sometimes  seemed 
to  him  almost  to  rival  those  of  Mrs.  Skene.  "  Sam 
was  saying  something  like  that  to-day,"  he  remarked. 
"He  says  you're  only  a  sparrer,  and  that  you'd  fall 
down  with  fright  if  you  was  put  into  a  twenty-four- 
foot  ring." 

The  novice  flushed.  "  I  wish  I  had  been  here  when 
Sam  Ducket  said  that." 

"Why,  what  could  you  ha'  done  to  him?"  said 
Skene,  his  small  eyes  twinkling. 

"I'd  have  punched  his  head;  that's  what  I  could 
and  would  have  done  to  him." 

"Why,  man,  he'd  eat  you." 

"  He  might.     And  he  might  eat  you  too,  Ned,  if 
31 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

lie  had  salt  enough  with  you.  He  talks  big  because 
he  knows  I  have  no  money;  and  he  pretends  he  won't 
strip  for  less  than  fifty  pounds  a  side." 

"  No  money!  "  cried  Skene.  "  I  know  them  as'll 
make  up  fifty  pound  before  twelve  to-morrow  for  any 
man  as  I  will  answer  for.  There'd  be  a  start  for  a 
young  man!  Why,  my  fust  fight  was  for  five  shillings 
in  Tott'nam  Fields;  and  proud  I  was  when  I  won  it. 
I  don't  want  to  set  you  on  to  fight  a  crack  like  Sam 
Ducket  anyway  against  your  inclinations;  but  don't 
go  for  to  say  that  money  isn't  to  be  had.  Let  Ned 
Skene  pint  to  a  young  man  and  say,  *  That's  the 
young  man  as  Ned  backs,'  and  others  will  come  for'ard 
— ay,  crowds  of  'em." 

The  novice  hesitated.  "  Do  you  think  I  ought  to, 
Ned?"  he  said. 

"That  ain't  for  me  to  say,"  said  Skene,  doggedly. 
"  I  know  what  I  would  ha'  said  at  your  age.  But  per- 
haps you're  right  to  be  cautious.  I  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  wouldn't  care  to  see  you  whipped  by  the  like  of  Sam 
Ducket." 

"  Will  you  train  me  if  I  challenge  him  ?  " 

"Will  I  train  you!"  echoed  Skene,  rising  with 
enthusiasm.  "Ay  will  I  train  you,  and  put  my 
money  on  you,  too;  and  you  shall  knock  fireworks 
out  of  him,  my  boy,  as  sure  as  my  name's  Ned 
Skene." 

"Then,"  cried  the  novice,  reddening  with  excite- 
ment, "I'll  fight  him.  And  if  I  lick  him  you  will 
have  to  hand  over  your  belt  as  champion  of  the  colo- 
nies to  me." 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  So  I  will,"  said  Skene,  affectionately.  "  Don't 
stay  out  late;  and  don't  for  your  life  touch  a  drop  of 
liquor.     You  must  go  into  training  to-morrow." 

This  was  Cashel  Byron's  first  professional  engage- 
ment. 


88 


CHAPTER  I 

Wiltstokest  Castle  was  a  square  building  with  cir- 
cular bastions  at  the  corners,  each  bastion  terminating 
skyward  in  a  Turkish  minaret.  The  southwest  face 
was  the  front,  and  was  pierced  by  a  Moorish  arch  fitted 
with  glass  doors,  which  could  be  secured  on  occasion 
by  gates  of  fantastically  hammered  iron.  The  arch 
was  enshrined  by  a  Palladian  portico,  which  rose  to 
the  roof,  and  was  surmounted  by  an  open  pediment/ 
in  the  cleft  of  which  stood  a  black-marble  figure  of  an 
Egyptian,  erect,  and  gazing  steadfastly  at  the  midday 
sun.  On  the  ground  beneath  was  an  Italian  terrace 
with  two  great  stone  elephants  at  the  ends  of  the  bal- 
ustrade. The  windows  on  the  upper  story  were,  like 
the  entrance,  Moorish;  but  the  principal  ones  below 
were  square  bays,  mullioned.  The  castle  was  consid- 
ered grand  by  the  illiterate;  but  architects  and  readers 
of  books  on  architecture  condemned  it  as  a  nonde- 
script mixture  of  styles  in  the  worst  possible  taste.  It 
stood  on  an  eminence  surrounded  by  hilly  woodland, 
thirty  acres  of  which  were  enclosed  as  Wiltstoken 
Park.  Half  a  mile  south  was  the  little  town  of 
Wiltstoken,  accessible  by  rail  from  London  in  about 
two  hours. 

Most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Wiltstoken  were  Conserva- 
tives.    They  stood  in  awe  of  the  castle ;  and  some  of 

84 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

them  would  at  any  time  have  cut  half  a  dozen  of  their 
oldest  friends  to  obtain  an  invitation  to  dinner,  or 
even  a  bow  in  public,  from  Miss  Lydia  Carew,  its 
orphan  mistress.  This  Miss  Carew  was  a  remarkable 
person.  She  had  inherited  the  castle  and  park  from 
her  aunt,  who  had  considered  her  niece's  large  fortune 
in  railways  and  mines  incomplete  without  land.  So 
many  other  legacies  had  Lydia  received  from  kinsfolk 
who  hated  poor  relations,  that  she  was  now,  in  her 
twenty-fifth  year,  the  independent  possessor  of  an  an- 
nual income  equal  to  the  year's  earnings  of  five  hun- 
dred workmen,  and  under  no  external  compulsion  to 
do  anything  in  return  for  it.  In  addition  to  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  a  single  woman  in  unusually  easy 
circumstances,  she  enjoyed  a  reputation  for  vast  learn- 
ing and  exquisite  culture.  It  was  said  in  Wiltstoken 
that  she  knew  forty-eight  living  languages  and  all  dead 
ones;  could  play  on  every  known  musical  instrument; 
was  an  accomplished  painter,  and  had  written  poetry. 
All  this  might  as  well  have  been  true  as  far  as  the 
Wiltstokeners  were  concerned,  since  she  knew  more 
than  they.  She  had  spent  her  life  travelling  with  her 
father,  a  man  of  active  mind  and  bad  digestion,  with 
a  taste  for  sociology,  science  in  general,  and  the  fine 
arts.  On  these  subjects  he  had  written  books,  by 
which  he  had  earned  a  considerable  reputation  as  a 
critic  and  philosopher.  They  were  the  outcome  of 
much  reading,  observation  of  men  and  cities,  sight- 
seeing, and  theatre-going,  of  which  his  daughter  had 
done  her  share,  and  indeed,  as  she  grew  more  com- 
petent and  he  weaker  and  older,  more  than  her  share. 

35 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

He  had  had  to  combine  health-hunfcing  with  pleasure- 
seeking;  and,  being  very  irritable  and  fastidious,  had 
schooled  her  in  self-control  and  endurance  by  harder 
lessons  than  those  which  had  made  her  acquainted 
with  the  works  of  Greek  and  German  philosophers 
long  before  she  understood  the  English  into  which  she 
translated  them. 

When  Lydia  was  in  her  twenty-first  year  her  father's 
health  failed  seriously.  He  became  more  dependent 
on  her;  and  she  anticipated  that  he  would  also  become 
more  exactiug  in  his  demands  on  her  time.  The  con- 
trary occurred.  One  day,  at  Naples,  she  had  arranged 
to  go  riding  with  an  English  party  that  was  staying 
there.  Shortly  before  the  appointed  hour  he  asked 
her  to  make  a  translation  of  a  long  extract  from  Less- 
ing.  Lydia,  in  whom  self -questionings  as  to  the  jus- 
tice of  her  father's  yoke  had  been  for  some  time  stir- 
ring, paused  thoughtfully  for  perhaps  two  seconds 
before  she  consented.  Carew  said  nothing,  but  he 
presently  intercepted  a  servant  who  was  bearing  an 
apology  to  the  English  party,  read  the  note,  and 
went  back  to  his  daughter,  who  was  already  busy  at 
Lessing. 

"  Lydia,"  he  said,  with  a  certain  hesitation,  which 
Bhe  would  have  ascribed  to  shyness  had  that  been  at 
all  credible  of  her  father  when  addressing  her,  "  I 
wish  you  never  to  postpone  your  business  to  literary 
trifling.' ' 

She  looked  at  him  with  the  vague  fear  that  accom- 
panies a  new  and  doubtful  experience;  and  he,  dissat- 
isfied with  his  way  of  putting  the  case,  added,  "  It  is 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

of  greater  importance  that  you  should  enjoy  yourself 
for  an  hour  than  that  my  book  should  be  advanced. 
Far  greater  ! " 

Lydia,  after  some  consideration,  put  down  her  pen 
and  said,  "  I  shall  not  enjoy  riding  if  there  is  any- 
thing else  left  undone." 

"  I  shall  not  enjoy  your  writing  if  your  excursion  is 
given  up  for  it,"  he  said.     "  I  prefer  your  going." 

Lydia  obeyed  silently.  An  odd  thought  struck  her 
that  she  might  end  the  matter  gracefully  by  kissing 
him.  But  as  they  were  unaccustomed  to  make  dem- 
onstrations of  this  kind,  nothing  came  of  the  impulse. 
She  spent  the  day  on  horseback,  reconsidered  her  late 
rebellious  thoughts,  and  made  the  translation  in  the 
evening. 

Thenceforth  Lydia  had  a  growing  sense  of  the  power 
she  had  unwittingly  been  acquiring  during  her  long 
subordination.  Timidly  at  first,  and  more  boldly  as 
she  became  used  to  dispense  with  the  parental  leading- 
strings,  she  began  to  follow  her  own  bent  in  selecting 
subjects  for  study,  and  even  to  defend  certain  recent 
developments  of  art  against  her  father's  conservatism. 
He  approved  of  this  independent  mental  activity  on 
her  part,  and  repeatedly  warned  her  not  to  pin  her 
faith  more  on  him  than  on  any  other  critic.  She  once 
told  him  that  one  of  her  incentives  to  disagree  with 
him  was  the  pleasure  it  gave  her  to  find  out  ultimately 
that  he  was  right.     He  replied  gravely: 

"That  pleases  me,  Lydia,  because  I  believe  you. 
But  such  things  are  better  left  unsaid.  They  seem  to 
belong  to  the  art  of  pleasing,  which  you  will  perhaps 

37 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

soon  be  tempted  to  practise,  because  it  seems  to  all 
young  people  easy,  well  paid,  amiable,  and  a  mark  of 
good  breeding.  In  truth  it  is  vulgar,  cowardly,  ego- 
tistical, and  insincere:  a  virtue  in  a  shopman;  a  vice 
in  a  free  woman.  It  is  better  to  leave  genuine  praise 
unspoken  than  to  expose  yourself  to  the  suspicion  of 
flattery." 

Shortly  after  this,  at  his  desire,  she  spent  a  season 
in  London,  and  went  into  English  polite  society,  which 
she  found  to  be  in  the  main  a  temple  for  the  worship 
of  wealth  and  a  market  for  the  sale  of  virgins.  Hav- 
ing become  familiar  with  both  the  cult  and  the  trade 
elsewhere,  she  found  nothing  to  interest  her  except 
the  English  manner  of  conducting  them;  and  the  nov- 
elty of  this  soon  wore  off.  She  was  also  incommoded 
by  her  involuntary  power  of  inspiring  affection  in  her 
own  sex.  Impulsive  girls  she  could  keep  in  awe;  but 
old  women,  notably  two  aunts  who  had  never  paid  her 
any  attention  during  her  childhood,  now  persecuted 
her  with  slavish  fondness,  and  tempted  her  by  mingled 
entreaties  and  bribes  to  desert  her  father  and  live  with 
them  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives.  Her  reserve 
fanned  their  longing  to  have  her  for  a  pet;  and,  to 
escape  them,  she  returned  to  the  Continent  with  her 
father,  and  ceased  to  hold  any  correspondence  with 
London.  Her  aunts  declared  themselves  deeply  hurt, 
and  Lydia  was  held  to  have  treated  them  very  inju- 
diciously; but  when  they  died,  and  their  wills  became 
public,  it  was  found  that  they  had  vied  with  one  an- 
other in  enriching  her. 

When  she  was  twenty-five  years  old  the  first  start- 
38 


Cashei  Byron's  Profession 

ling  event  of  her  life  took  place.  This  was  the  death 
of  her  father  at  Avignon.  No  endearments  passed 
between  them  even  on  that  occasion.  She  was  sitting 
opposite  to  him  at  the  fireside  one  evening,  reading 
aloud,  when  he  suddenly  said,  "  My  heart  has  stopped, 
Lydia.  Good-bye!  "  and  immediately  died.  She  had 
some  difficulty  in  quelling  the  tumult  that  arose  when 
the  bell  was  answered.  The  whole  household  felt 
bound  to  be  overwhelmed,  and  took  it  rather  ill  that 
she  seemed  neither  grateful  to  them  nor  disposed  to 
imitate  their  behavior. 

Carew's  relatives  agreed  that  he  had  made  a  most 
unbecoming  will.  It  was  a  brief  document,  dated 
five  years  before  his  death,  and  was  to  the  effect  that 
he  bequeathed  to  his  dear  daughter  Lydia  all  he  pos- 
sessed. He  had,  however,  left  her  certain  private 
instructions.  One  of  these,  which  excited  great  indig- 
nation in  his  family,  was  that  his  body  should  be  con- 
veyed to  Milan,  and  there  cremated.  Having  disposed 
of  her  father's  remains  as  he  had  directed,  she  came 
to  set  her  affairs  in  order  in  England,  where  she  in- 
spired much  hopeless  passion  in  the  toilers  in  Lin- 
coln's Inn  Fields  and  Chancery  Lane,  and  agreeably 
surprised  her  solicitors  by  evincing  a  capacity  for  busi- 
ness, and  a  patience  with  the  law's  delay,  that  seemed 
incompatible  with  her  age  and  sex.  When  all  was 
arranged,  and  she  was  once  more  able  to  enjoy  perfect 
tranquillity,  she  returned  to  Avignon,  and  there  dis- 
charged her  last  duty  to  her  father.  This  was  to  open 
a  letter  she  had  found  in  his  desk,  inscribed  by  his 
hand :    "  For  Lydia.     To  be  read  by  her  at  leisure 

39 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

when  I  and  my  affairs  shall  be  finally  disposed  of." 
The  letter  ran  thus  : 

"  My  dear  Lydia, — I  belong  to  the  great  company 
of  disappointed  men.  But  for  you,  I  should  now  write 
myself  down  a  failure  like  the  rest.  It  is  only  a  few 
years  since  it  first  struck  me  that  although  I  had  failed 
in  many  ambitions  with  which  (having  failed)  I  need 
not  trouble  you  now,  I  had  achieved  some  success  as  a 
father.  I  had  no  sooner  made  this  discovery  than  it 
began  to  stick  in  my  thoughts  that  you  could  draw  no 
other  conclusion  from  the  course  of  our  life  together 
than  that  I  have,  with  entire  selfishness,  used  you 
throughout  as  my  mere  amanuensis  and  clerk,  and 
that  you  are  under  no  more  obligation  to  me  for  your 
attainments  than  a  slave  is  to  his  master  for  the 
strength  which  enforced  labor  has  given  to  his  mus- 
cles. Lest  I  should  leave  you  suffering  from  so  mis- 
chievous and  oppressive  an  influence  as  a  sense  of 
injustice,  I  now  justify  myself  to  you. 

"I  have  never' asked  you  whether  you  remember 
your  mother.  Had  you  at  any  time  broached  the  sub- 
ject, I  should  have  spoken  quite  freely  to  you  on  it;  but 
as  some  wise  instinct  led  you  to  avoid  it,  I  was  content 
to  let  it  rest  until  circumstances  such  as  the  present 
should  render  further  reserve  unnecessary.  If  any  re- 
gret at  having  known  so  little  of  the  woman  who  gave 
you  birth  troubles  you,  shake  it  off  without  remorse. 
She  was  the  most  disagreeable  person  I  ever  knew.  I 
speak  dispassionately.  All  my  bitter  personal  feeling 
against  her  is  as  dead  while  I  write  as  it  will  be  when 

40 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

you  read.  I  have  even  come  to  cherish  tenderly  cer 
tain  of  her  characteristics  which  you  have  inherited, 
bo  that  I  confidently  say  that  I  never,  since  the  perish- 
ing of  the  infatuation  in  which  I  married,  felt  more 
kindly  toward  her  than  I  do  now.  I  made  the  best, 
and  she  the  worst,  of  our  union  for  six  years;  and  then 
we  parted.  I  permitted  her  to  give  what  account  of 
the  separation  she  pleased,  and  allowed  her  about  five 
times  as  much  money  as  she  had  any  right  to  expect. 
By  these  means  I  induced  her  to  leave  me  in  undis- 
turbed possession  of  you,  whom  I  had  already,  as  a 
measure  of  precaution,  carried  off  to  Belgium.  The 
reason  why  we  never  visited  England  during  her  life- 
time was  that  she  could,  and  probably  would,  have 
made  my  previous  conduct  and  my  hostility  to  popu- 
lar religion  an  excuse  for  wresting  you  from  me.  I 
need  say  no  more  of  her,  and  am  sorry  it  was  neces- 
sary to  mention  her  at  all. 

"  I  will  now  tell  you  what  induced  me  to  secure  you 
for  myself.  It  was  not  natural  affection;  I  did  not 
love  you  then,  and  I  knew  that  you  would  be  a  serious 
encumbrance  to  me.  But,  having  brought  you  into 
the  world,  and  then  broken  through  my  engagements 
with  your  mother,  I  felt  bound  to  see  that  you  should 
not  suffer  for  my  mistake.  Gladly  would  I  have  per- 
suaded myself  that  she  was  (as  the  gossips  said)  the 
fittest  person  to  have  charge  of  you;  but  I  knew  bet- 
ter, and  made  up  my  mind  to  discharge  my  responsi- 
bility as  well  as  I  could.  In  course  of  time  you  be- 
came useful  to  me;  and,  as  you  know,  I  made  use  of 
you  without  scruple,  but  never  without  regard  to  your 

41 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

own  advantage.  I  always  kept  a  secretary  to  do  what- 
ever I  considered  mere  copyist's  work.  Much  as  you. 
did  for  me,  I  think  I  may  say  with  truth  that  I  never 
imposed  a  task  of  absolutely  no  educational  value  on 
you.  I  fear  you  found  the  hours  you  spent  over  my 
money  affairs  very  irksome;  but  I  need  not  apologize 
for  that  now :  you  must  already  know  by  experience 
how  necessary  a  knowledge  of  business  is  to  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  large  fortune. 

"  I  did  not  think,  when  I  undertook  your  education, 
that  I  was  laying  the  foundation  of  any  comfort  for 
myself.  For  a  long  time  you  were  only  a  good  girl, 
and  what  ignorant  people  called  a  prodigy  of  learning. 
In  your  circumstances  a  commonplace  child  might 
have  been  both.  I  subsequently  came  to  contemplate 
your  existence  with  a  pleasure  which  I  never  derived 
from  the  contemplation  of  my  own.  I  have  not  suc- 
ceeded, and  shall  not  succeed  in  expressing  the  affec- 
tion I  feel  for  you,  or  the  triumph  with  which  I  find 
that  what  I  undertook  as  a  distasteful  and  thankless 
duty  has  rescued  my  life  and  labor  from  waste.  My 
literary  travail,  seriously  as  it  has  occupied  us  both,  I 
now  value  only  for  the  share  it  has  had  in  educating 
you;  and  you  will  be  guilty  of  no  disloyalty  to  me 
when  you  come  to  see  that  though  I  sifted  as  much 
sand  as  most  men,  I  found  no  gold.  I  ask  you  to  re- 
member, then,  that  I  did  my  duty  to  you  long  before 
it  became  pleasurable  or  even  hopeful.  And,  when 
you  are  older  and  have  learned  from  your  mother's 
friends  how  I  failed  in  my  duty  to  her,  you  will  per- 
haps give  me  some  credit  for  having  conciliated  the 

42 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

world  for  your  sake  by  abandoning  habits  and  ac- 
quaintances which,  whatever  others  may  have  thought 
of  them,  did  much  while  they  lasted  to  make  life  en- 
durable to  me. 

"  Although  your  future  will  not  concern  me,  I  often 
find  myself  thinking  of  it.  I  fear  you  will  soon  find 
that  the  world  has  not  yet  provided  a  place  and  a 
sphere  of  action  for  wise  and  well-instructed  women. 
In  my  younger  days,  when  the  companionship  of  my 
fellows  was  a  necessity  to  me,  I  voluntarily  set  aside 
my  culture,  relaxed  my  principles,  and  acquired  com- 
mon tastes,  in  order  to  fit  myself  for  the  society  of  the 
only  men  within  my  reach;  for,  if  I  had  to  live  among 
bears,  I  had  rather  be  a  bear  than  a  man.  Let  me 
warn  you  against  this.  Never  attempt  to  accommo- 
date yourself  to  the  world  by  self -degradation.  Be 
patient;  and  you  will  enjoy  frivolity  all  the  more  be- 
cause you  are  not  frivolous:  much  as  the  world  will 
respect  your  knowledge  all  the  more  because  of  its  own 
ignorance. 

"  Some  day,  I  expect  and  hope,  you  will  marry. 
You  will  then  have  an  opportunity  of  making  an 
irremediable  mistake,  against  the  possibility  of  which 
no  advice  of  mine  or  subtlety  of  yours  can  guard  you. 
I  think  you  will  not  easily  find  a  man  able  to  satisfy 
in  you  that  desire  to  be  relieved  of  the  responsibility 
of  thinking  out  and  ordering  our  course  of  life  that 
makes  us  each  long  for  a  guide  whom  we  can  thor- 
oughly trust.  If  you  fail,  remember  that  your  father, 
after  suffering  a  bitter  and  complete  disappointment 
in  his  wife,  yet  came  to  regard  his  marriage  as  the 

43 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

happiest  event  in  his  career.  Let  me  remind  you  also, 
since  you  are  so  rich,  that  it  would  be  a  great  folly  for 
you  to  be  jealous  of  your  own  income,  and  to  limit 
your  choice  of  a  husband  to  those  already  too  rich  to 
marry  for  money.  No  vulgar  adventurer  will  be  able 
to  recommend  himself  to  you ;  and  better  men  will  be 
at  least  as  much  frightened  as  attracted  by  your  wealth. 
The  only  class  against  which  I  need  warn  you  is  that 
to  which  I  myself  am  supposed  to  belong.  Never 
think  that  a  man  must  prove  a  suitable  and  satisfying 
friend  for  you  merely  because  he  has  read  much  criti- 
cism; that  he  must  feel  the  influences  of  art  as  you 
do  because  he  knows  and  adopts  the  classification  of 
names  and  schools  with  which  you  are  familiar;  or 
that  because  he  agrees  with  your  favorite  authors  he 
must  necessarily  interpret  their  words  to  himself  as 
you  understand  them.  Beware  of  men  who  have  read 
more  than  they  have  worked,  or  who  love  to  read  bet- 
ter than  to  work.  Beware  of  painters,  poets,  musi- 
cians, and  artists  of  all  sorts,  except  very  great  artists : 
beware  even  of  them  as  husbands  and  fathers.  Self- 
satisfied  workmen  who  have  learned  their  business 
well,  whether  they  be  chancellors  of  the  exchequer  or 
farmers,  I  recommend  to  you  as,  on  the  whole,  the 
most  tolerable  class  of  men  I  have  met. 

"I  shall  make  no  further  attempt  to  advise  you. 
As  fast  as  my  counsels  rise  to  my  mind  follow  reflec- 
tions that  convince  me  of  their  futility. 

"You  may  perhaps  wonder  why  I  never  said  to  you 
what  I  have  written  down  here.  I  have  tried  to  do  so 
and  failed.    If  I  understand  myself  aright,  I  have 

44 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

written  these  lines  mainly  to  relieve  a  craving  to  ex- 
press my  affection  for  you.  The  awkwardness  which 
an  over-civilized  man  experiences  in  admitting  that  he 
is  something  more  than  an  educated  stone  prevented 
me  from  confusing  you  by  demonstrations  of  a  kind  I 
had  never  accustomed  you  to.  Besides,  I  wish  this 
assurance  of  my  love — my  last  word — to  reach  you 
when  no  further  commonplaces  to  blur  the  impressive- 
ness  of  its  simple  truth  are  possible. 

"I  know  I  have  said  too  much;  and  I  feel  that  I 
have  not  said  enough.  But  the  writing  of  this  letter 
has  been  a  difficult  task.  Practised  as  I  am  with  my 
pen,  I  have  never,  even  in  my  earliest  efforts,  com* 
posed  with  such  labor  and  sense  of  inadequacy " 

Here  the  manuscript  broke  off.  The  letter  had 
never  been  finished. 


45 


CHAPTER  II 

In  the  month  of  May,  seven  years  after  the  flight 
of  the  two  boys  from  Moncrief  House,  a  lady  sat  in  an 
island  of  shadow  which  was  made  by  a  cedar-tree  in 
the  midst  of  a  glittering  green  lawn.  She  did  well  to 
avoid  the  sun,  for  her  complexion  was  as  delicately 
tinted  as  mother-of-pearl.  She  was  a  small,  graceful 
woman,  with  sensitive  lips  and  nostrils,  green  eyes, 
with  quiet,  unarched  brows,  and  ruddy  gold  hair,  now 
shaded  by  a  large,  un trimmed  straw  hat.  Her  dress 
of  Indian  muslin,  with  half -sleeves  terminating  at  the 
elbows  in  wide  ruffles,  hardly  covered  her  shoulders, 
where  it  was  supplemented  by  a  scarf  through  which 
a  glimpse  of  her  throat  was  visible  in  a  nest  of  soft 
Tourkaris  lace.  She  was  reading  a  little  ivory-bound 
volume — a  miniature  edition  of  the  second  part  of 
Goethe's  "  Faust." 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on  and  the  light  mellowed, 
the  lady  dropped  her  book  and  began  to  think  and 
dream,  unconscious  of  a  prosaic  black  object  crossing 
the  lawn  towards  her.  This  was  a  young  gentleman 
in  a  frock  coat.  He  was  dark,  and  had  a  long,  grave 
face,  with  a  reserved  expression,  but  not  ill-looking. 

"Going  so  soon,  Lucian?"  said  the  lady,  looking 
up  as  he  came  into  the  shadow. 

Lucian  looked  at  her  wistfully.  His  name,  as  she 
46 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

uttered  it,  always  stirred  him  vaguely.  He  was  fond 
of  finding  out  the  reasons  of  things,  and  had  long  ago 
decided  that  this  inward  stir  was  due  to  her  fine  pro- 
nunciation.    His  other  intimates  called  him  Looshn. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  have  arranged  everything,  and 
have  come  to  give  an  account  of  my  stewardship,  and 
to  say  good-bye." 

He  placed  a  garden-chair  near  her  and  sat  down. 
She  laid  her  hands  one  on  the  other  in  her  lap,  and 
composed  herself  to  listen. 

"First,"  he  said,  "as  to  the  Warren  Lodge.  It  is 
let  for  a  month  only;  so  you  can  allow  Mrs.  Goff  to 
have  it  rent  free  in  July  if  you  still  wish  to.  I  hope 
you  will  not  act  so  unwisely." 

She  smiled,  and  said,  "  Who  are  the  present  ten- 
ants ?  I  hear  that  they  object  to  the  dairymaids  and 
men  crossing  the  elm  vista." 

"  We  must  not  complain  of  that.  It  was  expressly 
stipulated  when  they  took  the  lodge  that  the  vista 
should  be  kept  private  for  them.  I  had  no  idea  at 
that  time  that  you  were  coming  to  the  castle,  or  I 
should  of  course  have  declined  such  a  condition." 

"  But  we  do  keep  it  private  for  them;  strangers  are 
not  admitted.  Our  people  pass  and  repass  once  a  day 
on  their  way  to  and  from  the  dairy;  that  is  all." 

"It  seems  churlish,  Lydia;  but  this,  it  appears,  is 
a  special  case — a  young  gentleman,  who  has  come  to 
recruit  his  health.  He  needs  daily  exercise  in  the 
open  air;  but  he  cannot  bear  observation,  and  he  has 
only  a  single  attendant  with  him.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances I  agreed  that  they  should  have  the  sole  use 

47 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

of  the  elm  vista.     In  fact,  they  are  paying  more  rent 
than  would  be  reasonable  without  this  privilege." 

"  I  hope  the  young  gentleman  is  not  mad." 

"  I  satisfied  myself  before  I  let  the  lodge  to  him  that 
he  would  be  a  proper  tenant,"  said  Lucian,  with  re- 
proachful gravity.  "He  was  strongly  recommended 
to  me  by  Lord  Worthington,  whom  I  believe  to  be  a 
man  of  honor,  notwithstanding  his  inveterate  love  of 
sport.  As  it  happens,  I  expressed  to  him  the  sus- 
picion you  have  just  suggested.  Worthington  vouched 
for  the  tenant's  sanity,  and  offered  to  take  the  lodge 
in  his  own  name  and  be  personally  responsible  for  the 
good  behavior  of  this  young  invalid,  who  has,  I  fancy, 
upset  his  nerves  by  hard  reading.  Probably  some  col- 
lege friend  of  Worthington's." 

"  Perhaps  so.  But  I  should  rather  expect  a  college 
friend  of  Lord  Worthington's  to  be  a  hard  rider  or 
drinker  than  a  hard  reader." 

"  You  may  be  quite  at  ease,  Lydia.  I  took  Lord 
Worthington  at  his  word  so  far  as  to  make  the  letting 
to  him.  I  have  never  seen  the  real  tenant.  But, 
though  I  do  not  even  recollect  his  name,  I  will  ven- 
ture to  answer  for  him  at  second-hand." 

"I  am  quite  satisfied,  Lucian;  and  I  am  greatly 
obliged  to  you.  I  will  give  orders  that  no  one  shall 
go  to  the  dairy  by  way  of  the  warren.  It  is  natural 
that  he  should  wish  to  be  out  of  the  world." 

"The  next  point,"  resumed  Lucian,  "is  more  im- 
portant, as  it  concerns  you  personally.  Miss  Goff  is 
willing  to  accept  your  offer.  And  a  most  unsuitable 
companion  she  will  be  for  you!  " 

48 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"Why,  Lucian?" 

"On  all  accounts.  She  is  younger  than  you,  and 
therefore  cannot  chaperone  you.  She  has  received 
only  an  ordinary  education,  and  her  experience  of  so- 
ciety is  derived  from  local  subscription  balls.  And, 
as  she  is  not  unattractive,  and  is  considered  a  beauty 
in  Wiltstoken,  she  is  self-willed,  and  will  probably 
take  your  patronage  in  bad  part." 

"  Is  she  more  self-willed  than  I  ?  " 

"You  are  not  self-willed,  Lydia;  except  that  you 
are  deaf  to  advice." 

"  You  mean  that  I  seldom  follow  it.  And  so  you 
think  I  had  better  employ  a  professional  companion 
— a  decayed  gentlewoman — than  save  this  young  girl 
from  going  out  as  a  governess  and  beginning  to  decay 
at  twenty -three  ?  " 

"  The  business  of  getting  a  suitable  companion,  and 
the  pleasure  or  duty  of  relieving  poor  people,  are  two 
different  things,  Lydia." 

"  True,  Lucian.     When  will  Miss  Goff  call  ?  " 

"This  evening.  Mind;  nothing  is  settled  as  yet. 
If  you  think  better  of  it  on  seeing  her  you  have  only 
to  treat  her  as  an  ordinary  visitor  and  the  subject  will 
drop.  For  my  own  part,  I  prefer  her  sister;  but  she 
will  not  leave  Mrs.  Goff,  who  has  not  yet  recovered 
from  the  shock  of  her  husband's  death." 

Lydia  looked  reflectively  at  the  little  volume  in  her 
hana,  and  seemed  to  think  out  the  question  of  Miss 
Goff.  Presently,  with  an  air  of  having  made  up  her 
mind,  she  said, 

"  Can  you  guess  which  of  Goethe's  characters  you 
4  49 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

remind  me  of  when  you  try  to  be  worldly-wise  for  my 
sake?" 

"When  I  try What  an  extraordinary  irrele- 
vance !  I  have  not  read  Goethe  lately.  Mephistoph- 
eles, I  suppose.     But  I  did  not  mean  to  be  cynical." 

"  No;  not  Mephistopheles,  but  Wagner — with  a  dif- 
ference. Wagner  taking  Mephistopheles  instead  of 
Faust  for  his  model."  Seeing  by  his  face  that  he  did 
not  relish  the  comparison,  she  added,  "I  am  paying 
you  a  compliment.  Wagner  represents  a  very  clever 
man." 

"  The  saving  clause  is  unnecessary,"  he  said,  some- 
what sarcastically.  "  I  know  your  opinion  of  me  quite 
well,  Lydia." 

She  looked  quickly  at  him.  Detecting  the  concern 
in  her  glance,  he  shook  his  head  sadly,  saying,  "I 
must  go  now,  Lydia.  I  leave  you  in  charge  of  the 
housekeeper  until  Miss  Goff  arrives." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  a  dull  glow  came  into 
his  gray  jaws  as  he  took  it.  Then  he  buttoned  his 
coat  and  walked  gravely  away.  As  he  went,  she 
watched  the  sun  mirrored  in  his  glossy  hat,  and 
drowned  in  his  respectable  coat.  She  sighed,  and 
took  up  Goethe  again. 

But  after  a  little  while  she  began  to  be  tired  of  sit- 
ting still,  and  she  rose  and  wandered  through  the  park 
for  nearly  an  hour,  trying  to  find  the  places  in  which 
she  had  played  in  her  childhood  during  a  visit  to  her 
late  aunt.  She  recognized  a  great  toppling  Druid's 
altar  that  had  formerly  reminded  her  of  Mount  Sinai 
threatening  to  fall  on  the  head  of  Christian  in  "  The 

50 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Pilgrim's  Progress."  Farther  on  she  saw  and  avoided 
a  swamp  in  which  she  had  once  earned  a  scolding  from 
her  nurse  by  filling  her  stockings  with  mad.  Then 
she  found  herself  in  a  long  avenue  of  green  turf,  run- 
ning east  and  west,  and  apparently  endless.  This 
seemed  the  most  delightful  of  all  her  possessions,  and 
she  had  begun  to  plan  a  pavilion  to  build  near  it,  when 
she  suddenly  recollected  that  this  must  be  the  elm  vista 
of  which  the  privacy  was  so  stringently  insisted  upon 
by  her  invalid  tenant  at  the  Warren  Lodge.  She  fled 
into  the  wood  at  once,  and,  when  she  was  safe  there, 
laughed  at  the  oddity  of  being  a  trespasser  in  her  own 
domain.  She  made  a  wide  detour  in  order  to  avoid 
intruding  a  second  time;  consequently,  after  walking 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  she  lost  herself.  The  trees 
seemed  never-ending;  she  began  to  think  she  must 
possess  a  forest  as  well  as  a  park.  At  last  she  saw  an 
opening.  Hastening  toward  it,  she  came  again  into 
the  sunlight,  and  stopped,  dazzled  by  an  apparition 
which  she  at  first  took  to  be  a  beautiful  statue,  but 
presently  recognized,  with  a  strange  glow  of  delight, 
as  a  living  man. 

To  so  mistake  a  gentleman  exercising  himself  in  the 
open  air  on  a  nineteenth-century  afternoon  would, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  imply  incredible  igno- 
rance either  of  men  or  statues.  But  the  circumstances 
in  Miss  Carew's  case  were  not  ordinary;  for  the  man 
was  clad  in  a  jersey  and  knee-breeches  of  white  mate- 
rial, and  his  bare  arms  shone  like  those  of  a  gladiator. 
His  broad  pectoral  muscles,  in  their  white  covering, 
were  like  slabs  of  marble.     Even  his  hair,  short,  crisp, 

51 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

and  curly,  seemed  like  burnished  bronze  in  the  even- 
ing  light.  It  came  into  Lydia's  mind  that  she  had 
disturbed  an  antique  god  in  his  sylvan  haunt.  The 
fancy  was  only  momentary;  for  she  perceived  that 
there  was  a  third  person  present;  a  man  impossible  to 
associate  with  classic  divinity.  He  looked  like  a  well- 
to-do  groom,  and  was  contemplating  his  companion 
much  as  a  groom  might  contemplate  an  exceptionally 
fine  horse.  He  was  the  first  to  see  Lydia;  and  his  ex- 
pression as  he  did  so  plainly  showed  that  he  regarded 
her  as  a  most  unwelcome  intruder.  The  statue-man, 
following  his  sinister  look,  saw  her  too,  but  with  dif- 
ferent feelings;  for  his  lips  parted,  his  color  rose,  and 
he  stared  at  her  with  undisguised  admiration  and  won- 
der. Lydia's  first  impulse  was  to  turn  and  fly;  her 
next,  to  apologize  for  her  presence.  Finally  she  went 
away  quietly  through  the  trees. 

The  moment  she  was  out  of  their  sight  she  increased 
her  pace  almost  to  a  run.  The  day  was  too  warm  for 
rapid  movement,  and  she  soon  stopped  and  listened. 
There  were  the  usual  woodland  sounds;  leaves  rus- 
tling, grasshoppers  chirping,  and  birds  singing;  but 
not  a  human  voice  or  footstep.  She  began  to  think 
that  the  god-like  figure  was  only  the  Hermes  of  Prax- 
iteles, suggested  to  her  by  Goethe's  classical  Sabbat, 
and  changed  by  a  day-dream  into  the  semblance  of  a 
living  reality.  The  groom  must  have  been  one  of 
those  incongruities  characteristic  of  dreams — probably 
a  reminiscence  of  Lucian's  statement  that  the  tenant 
of  the  Warren  Lodge  had  a  single  male  attendant.  It 
was  impossible  that  this  glorious  vision  of   manly 

52 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

strength  and  beauty  could  be  substantially  a  student 
broken  down  by  excessive  study.  That  irrational  glow 
of  delight,  too,  was  one  of  the  absurdities  of  dream- 
land; otherwise  she  should  have  been  ashamed  of  it. 

Lydia  made  her  way  back  to  the  castle  in  some  alarm 
as  to  the  state  of  her  nerves,  but  dwelling  on  her  vision 
with  a  pleasure  that  she  would  not  have  ventured  to 
indulge  had  it  concerned  a  creature  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Once  or  twice  it  recurred  to  her  so  vividly  that  she 
asked  herself  whether  it  could  have  been  real.  But  a 
little  reasoning  convinced  her  that  it  must  have  been 
an  hallucination. 

"If  you  please,  madam,"  said  one  of  her  staff  of 
domestics,  a  native  of  Wiltstoken,  who  stood  in  deep 
awe  of  the  lady  of  the  castle,  "Miss  Goff  is  waiting 
for  you  in  the  drawing-room." 

The  drawing-room  of  the  castle  was  a  circular  apart- 
ment, with  a  dome-shaped  ceiling  broken  into  gilt 
ornaments  resembling  thick  bamboos,  which  projected 
vertically  downward  like  stalagmites.  The  heavy 
chandeliers  were  loaded  with  flattened  brass  balls, 
magnified  fac-similes  of  which  crowned  the  uprights 
of  the  low,  broad,  massively-framed  chairs,  which  were 
covered  in  leather  stamped  with  Japanese  dragon  de- 
signs in  copper-colored  metal.  Near  the  fireplace  was 
a  great  bronze  bell  of  Chinese  shape,  mounted  like  a 
mortar  on  a  black  wooden  carriage  for  use  as  a  coal- 
scuttle. The  wall  was  decorated  with  large  gold  cres- 
cents on  a  ground  of  light  blue. 

In  this  barbaric  rotunda  Miss  Carew  found  awaiting 
her  a  young  lady  of  twenty-three,  with  a  well-devel- 

53 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

oped,  resilient  figure,  and  a  clear  complexion,  porce- 
lain surfaced,  and  with  a  fine  red  in  the  cheeks.  The 
lofty  pose  of  her  head  expressed  an  habitual  sense  of 
her  own  consequence  given  her  by  the  admiration  of 
the  youth  of  the  neighborhood,  which  was  also,  per- 
haps, the  cause  of  the  neatness  of  her  inexpensive  black 
dress,  and  of  her  irreproachable  gloves,  boots,  and  hat. 
She  had  been  waiting  to  introduce  herself  to  the  lady 
of  the  castle  for  ten  minutes  in  a  state  of  nervousness 
that  culminated  as  Lydia  entered. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Gofl!.  Have  I  kept  you  wait- 
ing ?    I  was  out." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Miss  Gofl:,  with  a  confused  im- 
pression that  red  hair  was  aristocratic,  and  dark  brown 
(the  color  of  her  own)  vulgar.  She  had  risen  to  shake 
hands,  and  now,  after  hesitating  a  moment  to  consider 
what  etiquette  required  her  to  do  next,  resumed  her 
seat.  Miss  Oarew  sat  down  too,  and  gazed  thought- 
fully at  her  visitor,  who  held  herself  rigidly  erect,  and, 
striving  to  mask  her  nervousness,  unintentionally 
looked  disdainful. 

"Miss  Gofl:,"  said  Lydia,  after  a  silence  that  made 
her  speech  impressive,  "  will  you  come  to  me  on  a  long 
visit  ?  In  this  lonely  place  I  am  greatly  in  want  of  a 
friend  and  companion  of  my  own  age  and  position.  I 
think  you  must  be  equally  so." 

Alice  Gofl:  was  very  young,  and  very  determined  to 
accept  no  credit  that  she  did  not  deserve.  With  the 
unconscious  vanity  and  conscious  honesty  of  youth, 
she  proceeded  to  set  Miss  Carew  right  as  to  her  social 
position,  not  considering  that  the  lady  of  the  castle 

54 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

probably  understood  it  better  than  she  did  herself,  an 
indeed  thinking  it  quite  natural  that  she  should  be 
mistaken. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  replied,  stiffly;  "  but  our 
positions  are  quite  different,  Miss  Carew.  The  fact  is 
that  I  cannot  afford  to  live  an  idle  life.  We  are  very 
poor,  and  my  mother  is  partly  dependent  on  my  exer- 
tions." 

"  I  think  you  will  be  able  to  exert  yourself  to  good 
purpose  if  you  come  to  me,"  said  Lydia,  unimpressed. 
*'  It  is  true  that  I  shall  give  you  very  expensive  hab- 
its; but  I  will  of  course  enable  you  to  support  them." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  contract  expensive  habits,"  said 
Alice,  reproachfully.  "  I  shall  have  to  content  myself 
with  frugal  ones  throughout  my  life." 

"Not  necessarily.  Tell  me,  frankly:  how  had  you 
proposed  to  exert  yourself?  As  a  teacher,  was  it 
not?" 

Alice  flushed,  but  assented. 

"  You  are  not  at  all  fitted  for  it;  and  you  will  end 
by  marrying.  As  a  teacher  you  could  not  marry  well. 
As  an  idle  lady,  with  expensive  habits,  you  will  marry 
very  well  indeed.  It  is  quite  an  art  to  know  how  to 
be  rich — an  indispensable  art,  if  you  mean  to  marry  a 
rich  man." 

"I  have  no  intention  of  marrying,"  said  Alice, 
loftily.  She  thought  it  time  to  check  this  cool  aris- 
tocrat. "If  I  come  at  all  I  shall  come  without  any 
ulterior  object." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  had  hoped.  Come  without 
condition,  or  second  thought  of  any  kind." 

55 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"But — "  began  Alice,  and  stopped,  bewildered  by 
the  pace  at  which  the  negotiation  was  proceeding. 
She  murmured  a  few  words,  and  waited  for  Lydia 
to  proceed.  But  Lydia  had  said  her  say,  and  evi- 
dently expected  a  reply,  though  she  seemed  assured  of 
having  her  own  way,  whatever  Alice's  views  might  be. 

"I  do  not  quite  understand,  Miss  Carew.  What 
duties ? — what  would  you  expect  of  me?" 

"A  great  deal,"  said  Lydia,  gravely.  "Much 
more  than  I  should  from  a  mere  professional  com- 
panion." 

"But  lam  a  professional  companion,"  protested 
Alice. 

"Whose?" 

Alice  flushed  again,  angrily  this  time.  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  say — " 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  will  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  me,"  said  Lydia,  stopping  her  quietly. 
"Why  are  you  so  scrupulous,  Miss  Goff?  You  will 
be  close  to  your  home,  and  can  return  to  it  at  any 
moment  if  you  become  dissatisfied  with  your  position 
here." 

Fearful  that  she  had  disgraced  herself  by  ill  man- 
ners; loath  to  be  taken  possession  of  as  if  her  wishes 
were  of  no  consequence  when  a  rich  lady's  whim  was 
to  be  gratified;  suspicious — since  she  had  often  heard 
gossiping  tales  of  the  dishonesty  of  people  in  high 
positions — lest  she  should  be  cheated  out  of  the  salary 
she  had  come  resolved  to  demand;  and  withal  unable 
to  defend  herself  against  Miss  Carew,  Alice  caught  at 
the  first  excuse  that  occurred  to  her. 

56 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  I  should  like  a  little  time  to  consider,"  she  said. 

"  Time  to  accustom  yourself  to  me,  is  it  not  ?  You 
can  have  as  long  as  you  plea — " 

"Oh,  I  can  let  you  know  to-morrow,"  interrupted 
Alice,  officiously. 

"Thank  you.  I  will  send  a  note  to  Mrs.  GofE  to 
say  that  she  need  not  expect  you  back  until  to- 
morrow." 

"  But  I  did  not  mean — I  am  not  prepared  to  stay," 
remonstrated  Alice,  feeling  that  she  was  being  en- 
tangled in  a  snare. 

"  We  shall  take  a  walk  after  dinner,  then,  and  call 
at  your  house,  where  you  can  make  your  preparations. 
But  I  think  I  can  supply  you  with  all  you  will  re- 
quire." 

Alice  dared  make  no  further  objection.  "I  am 
afraid,"  she  stammered,  "you  will  think  me  horribly 
rude;  but  I  am  so  useless,  and  you  are  so  sure  to  be 
disappointed,  that — that — " 

"  You  are  not  rude,  Miss  Goff ;  but  I  find  you  very 
shy.  You  want  to  run  away  and  hide  from  new  faces 
and  new  surroundings. "  Alice,  who  was  self-possessed 
and  even  overbearing  in  Wiltstoken  society,  felt  that 
she  was  misunderstood,  but  did  not  know  how  to  vin- 
dicate herself.  Lydia  resumed,  "  I  have  formed  my 
habits  in  the  course  of  my  travels,  and  so  live  without 
ceremony.     We  dine  early — at  six." 

Alice  had  dined  at  two,  but  did  not  feel  bound  to 
confess  it. 

"  Let  me  show  you  your  room,"  said  Lydia,  rising. 
"  This  is  a  curious  drawing-room,"  she  added,  glanc- 

57 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ing  around.  "  I  only  use  it  occasionally  to  receive 
visitors."  She  looked  about  her  again  with  some 
interest,  as  if  the  apartment  belonged  to  some  one  else, 
and  led  the  way  to  a  room  on  the  first  floor,  furnished 
as  a  lady's  bed-chamber.  "  If  you  dislike  this,"  she 
said,  "  or  cannot  arrange  it  to  suit  you,  there  are 
others,  of  which  you  can  have  your  choice.  Come  to 
my  boudoir  when  you  are  ready." 

"  Where  is  that  ?  "  said  Alice,  anxiously. 

"  It  is —  You  had  better  ring  for  some  one  to  show 
you.     I  will  send  you  my  maid." 

Alice,  even  more  afraid  of  the  maid  than  of  the 
mistress,  declined  hastily.  "I  am  accustomed  to 
attend  to  myself,  Miss  Carew,"  with  proud  humility. 

"  You  will  find  it  more  convenient  to  call  me 
Lydia,"  said  Miss  Carew.  "Otherwise  you  will  be 
supposed  to  refer  to  my  grandaunt,  a  very  old  lady." 
She  then  left  the  room. 

Alice  was  fond  of  thinking  that  she  had  a  womanly 
taste  and  touch  in  making  a  room  pretty.  She  was 
accustomed  to  survey  with  pride  her  mother's  draw- 
ing-room, which  she  had  garnished  with  cheap  cre- 
tonnes, Japanese  paper  fans,  and  knick-knacks  in 
ornamental  pottery.  She  felt  now  that  if  she  slept 
once  in  the  bed  before  her,  she  could  never  be  content 
in  her  mother's  house  again.  All  that  she  had  read 
and  believed  of  the  beauty  of  cheap  and  simple  orna- 
ment, and  the  vulgarity  of  costliness,  recurred  to  her 
as  a  hypocritical  paraphrase  of  the  "  sour  grapes  "  of 
the  fox  in  the  fable.  She  pictured  to  herself  with  a 
shudder  the  effect  of  a  sixpenny  Chinese  umbrella  in 

58 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

chat  fireplace,  a  cretonne  valance  to  that  bed,  or 
chintz  curtains  to  those  windows.  There  was  in  the 
room  a  series  of  mirrors  consisting  of  a  great  glass  in 
which  she  could  see  herself  at  full  length,  another 
framed  in  the  carved  oaken  dressing-table,  and  smaller 
ones  of  various  shapes  fixed  to  jointed  arms  that 
turned  every  way.  To  use  them  for  the  first  time  was 
like  having  eyes  in  the  back  of  the  head.  She  had 
never  seen  herself  from  all  points  of  view  before.  As 
she  gazed,  she  strove  no  tto  be  ashamed  of  her  dress ; 
but  even  her  face  and  figure,  which  usually  afforded 
her  unqualified  delight,  seemed  robust  and  middle- 
class  in  Miss  Carew's  mirrors. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  seating  herself  on  a  chair 
that  was  even  more  luxurious  to  rest  in  than  to  look 
at;  "putting  the  lace  out  of  the  question — and  my 
old  lace  that  belongs  to  mamma  is  quite  as  valuable — 
her  whole  dress  cannot  have  cost  much  more  than  mine. 
At  any  rate,  it  is  not  worth  much  more,  whatever  she 
may  have  chosen  to  pay  for  it." 

But  Alice  was  clever  enough  to  envy  Miss  Carew 
her  manners  more  than  her  dress.  She  would  not 
admit  to  herself  that  she  was  not  thoroughly  a  lady; 
but  she  felt  that  Lydia,  in  the  eye  of  a  stranger, 
would  answer  that  description  better  than  she.  Still, 
as  far  as  she  had  observed,  Miss  Carew  was  exceed- 
ingly cool  in  her  proceedings,  and  did  not  take  any 
pains  to  please  those  with  whom  she  conversed.  Alice 
had  often  made  compacts  of  friendship  with  young 
ladies,  and  had  invited  them  to  call  her  by  her  Christian 
name;  but  on  such  occasions  she  had  always  called 

59 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

darling, "  and,  while  the  friendship 
lasted  (which  was  often  longer  than  a  month,  for 
Alice  was  a  steadfast  girl),  had  never  met  them  without 
exchanging  an  embrace  and  a  hearty  kiss. 

"  And  nothing,"  she  said,  springing  from  the  chair 
as  she  thought  of  this,  and  speaking  very  resolutely, 
"shall  tempt  me  to  believe  that  there  is  anything 
vulgar  in  sincere  affection.  I  shall  be  on  my  guard 
against  this  woman." 

Having  settled  that  matter  for  the  present,  she  re- 
sumed her  examination  of  the  apartment,  and  was 
more  and  more  attracted  by  it  as  she  proceeded.  For, 
thanks  to  her  eminence  as  a  local  beauty,  she  had  not 
that  fear  of  beautiful  and  rich  things  which  renders 
abject  people  incapable  of  associating  costliness  with 
comfort.  Had  the  counterpane  of  the  bed  been  her 
own,  she  would  have  unhesitatingly  converted  it  into 
a  ball-dress.  There  were  toilet  appliances  of  which 
she  had  never  felt  the  need,  and  could  only  guess  the 
use.  She  looked  with  despair  into  the  two  large  clos- 
ets, thinking  how  poor  a  show  her  three  dresses,  her 
ulster,  and  her  few  old  jackets  would  make  there. 
There  was  also  a  dressing-room  with  a  marble  bath 
that  made  cleanliness  a  luxury  instead  of  one  of  the 
sternest  of  the  virtues,  as  it  seemed  at  home.  Yet  she 
remarked  that  though  every  object  was  more  or  less 
ornamental,  nothing  had  been  placed  in  the  rooms  for 
the  sake  of  ornament  alone.  Miss  Carew,  judged  by 
her  domestic  arrangements,  was  a  utilitarian  before 
everything.  There  was  a  very  handsome  chimney- 
piece;  but  as  there  was  nothing  on  the  mantel-board, 

60 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Alice  made  a  faint  effort  to  believe  that  it  was  infe% 
rior  in  point  of  taste  to  that  in  her  own  bedroom, 
which  was  covered  with  blue  cloth,  surrounded  by 
fringe  and  brass-headed  nails,  and  laden  with  photo- 
graphs in  plush  frames. 

The  striking  of  the  hour  reminded  her  that  she  had 
forgotten  to  prepare  for  dinner.  She  hastily  took  off 
her  hat,  washed  her  hands,  spent  another  minute 
among  the  mirrors,  and  was  summoning  courage  to 
ring  the  bell,  when  a  doubt  occurred  to  her.  Ought 
she  to  put  on  her  gloves  before  going  down  or  not  ? 
This  kept  her  in  perplexity  for  many  seconds.  At 
last  she  resolved  to  put  her  gloves  in  her  pocket,  and 
be  guided  as  to  their  further  disposal  by  the  example 
of  her  hostess.  Then,  not  daring  to  hesitate  any 
longer,  she  rang  the  bell,  and  was  presently  joined  by  a 
French  lady  of  polished  manners — Miss  Carew's  maid 
— who  conducted  her  to  the  boudoir,  a  hexagonal 
apartment  that,  Alice  thought,  a  sultana  might  have 
envied.  Lydia  was  there,  reading.  Alice  noted  with 
relief  that  she  had  not  changed  her  dress,  and  that 
she  was  ungloved. 

Miss  Goff  did  not  enjoy  the  dinner.  There  was  a 
butler  who  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  stand  at 
a  buffet  and  watch  her.  There  was  also  a  swift, 
noiseless  footman  who  presented  himself  at  her  elbow 
at  intervals  and  compelled  her  to  choose  on  the  instant 
between  unfamiliar  things  to  eat  and  drink.  She 
envied  these  men  their  knowledge  of  society,  and 
shrank  from  their  criticism.  Once,  after  taking  a  piece 
of  asparagus  in  her  hand,  she  was  deeply  mortified  at 

61 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

seeing  her  hostess  consume  the  vegetable  with  the  aid 
of  a  knife  and  fork;  but  the  footman's  back  was 
turned  to  her  just  then,  and  the  butler,  oppressed  by 
the  heat  of  the  weather,  was  in  a  state  of  abstraction 
bordering  on  slumber.  On  the  whole,  by  dint  of 
imitating  Miss  Carew,  who  did  not  plague  her  with  any 
hostess-like  vigilance,  she  came  off  without  discredit 
to  her  breeding. 

Lydia,  on  her  part,  acknowledged  no  obligation  to 
entertain  her  guest  by  chatting,  and  enjoyed  her 
thoughts  and  her  dinner  in  silence.  Alice  began  to 
be  fascinated  by  her,  and  to  wonder  what  she  was 
thinking  about.  She  fancied  that  the  footman  was 
not  quite  free  from  the  same  influence.  Even  the 
butler  might  have  been  meditating  himself  to  sleep 
on  the  subject.  Alice  felt  tempted  to  offer  her  a 
penny  for  her  thoughts.  But  she  dared  not  be  so 
familiar  as  yet.  And,  had  the  offer  been  made  and 
accepted,  butler,  footman,  and  guest  would  have  been 
plunged  into  equal  confusion  by  the  explanation, 
which  would  have  run  thus: 

"  I  saw  a  vision  of  the  Hermes  of  Praxiteles  in  a 
sylvan  haunt  to-day;  and  I  am  thinking  of  that." 


«3 


CHAPTER  III. 

Next  day  Alice  accepted  Miss  Carew's  invitation. 
Lydia,  who  seemed  to  regard  all  conclusions  as  fore- 
gone when  she  had  once  signified  her  approval  of 
them,  took  the  acceptance  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Alice  thereupon  thought  fit  to  remind  her  that  there 
were  other  persons  to  be  considered.     So  she  said, 

"  I  should  not  have  hesitated  yesterday  but  for  my 
mother.     It  seems  so  heartless  to  leave  her." 

"  You  have  a  sister  at  home,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  she  is  not  very  strong,  and  my  mother 
requires  a  great  deal  of  attention."  Alice  paused, 
and  added  in  a  lower  voice,  "  She  has  never  recovered 
from  the  shock  of  my  father's  death." 

"  Your  father  is  then  not  long  dead?  "  said  Lydia 
in  her  usual  tone. 

"  Only  two  years,"  said  Alice,  coldly.  "  I  hardly 
know  how  to  tell  my  mother  that  I  am  going  to  desert 
her." 

"  Go  and  tell  her  to-day,  Alice.  You  need  not  be 
afraid  of  hurting  her.  Grief  of  two  years'  standing  is 
only  a  bad  habit." 

Alice  started,  outraged.  Her  mother's  grief  was 
sacred  to  her;  and  yet  it  was  by  her  experience  of  her 
mother  that  she  recognized  the  truth  of  Lydia' s 
remark,   and  felt  that  it  was  unanswerable.      She 

63 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

frowned;  but  the  frown  was  lost:  Miss  Oarew  was  not 
looking  at  her.  Then  she  rose  and  went  to  the  door, 
where  she  stopped  to  say, 

"You  do  not  know  our  family  circumstances.  I 
will  go  now  and  try  to  prevail  on  my  mother  to  let  me 
stay  with  you." 

"  Please  come  back  in  good  time  for  dinner,"  said 
Lydia,  unmoved.  "I  will  introduce  you  to  my 
cousin  Lucian  "Webber.  I  have  just  received  a  tele- 
gram from  him.  He  is  coming  down  with  Lord 
Worthington.  I  do  not  know  whether  Lord  Worth- 
ington  will  come  to  dinner  or  not.  He  has  an  invalid 
friend  at  the  Warren,  and  Lucian  does  not  make  it 
clear  whether  he  is  coming  to  visit  him  or  me.  How- 
ever, it  is  of  no  consequence;  Lord  Worthington  is 
only  a  young  sportsman.  Lucian  is  a  clever  man,  and 
will  be  an  eminent  one  some  day.  He  is  secretary  to 
a  Cabinet  Minister,  and  is  very  busy;  but  we  shall 
probably  see  him  often  while  the  Whitsuntide  holi- 
days last.  Excuse  my  keeping  you  waiting  at  the 
door  to  hear  that  long  history.  Adieu  !  "  She  waved 
her  hand;  Alice  suddenly  felt  that  it  was  possible  to 
be  very  fond  of  Miss  Carew. 

She  spent  an  unhappy  afternoon  with  her  mother. 
Mrs.  Goff  had  had  the  good-fortune  to  marry  a  man 
of  whom  she  was  afraid,  and  who  made  himself  very 
disagreeable  whenever  his  house  or  his  children  were 
neglected  in  the  least  particular.  Making  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  she  had  come  to  be  regarded  in  Wiltstoken 
as  a  model  wife  and  mother.  At  last,  when  a  drag  ran 
over  Mr.   Goff  and  killed  him,  she  was  left  almost 

64 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

penniless,  with  two  daughters  on  her  hands.  In  this 
extremity  she  took  refuge  in  grief,  and  did  nothing. 
Her  daughters  settled  their  father's  affairs  as  best 
they  could,  moved  her  into  a  cheap  house,  and  pro- 
cured a  strange  tenant  for  that  in  which  they  had  lived 
daring  many  years.  Janet,  the  elder  sister,  a  student 
by  disposition,  employed  herself  as  a  teacher  of  the 
scientific  fashions  in  modern  female  education,  ru- 
mors of  which  had  already  reached  Wiltstoken.  Alice 
was  unable  to  teach  mathematics  and  moral  science; 
but  she  formed  a  dancing-class,  and  gave  lessons  in 
singing  and  in  a  language  which  she  believed  to  be 
current  in  France,  but  which  was  not  intelligible  to 
natives  of  that  country  travelling  through  Wilt- 
Btoken.  Both  sisters  were  devoted  to  one  another  and 
to  their  mother.  Alice,  who  had  enjoyed  the  special 
affection  of  her  self-indulgent  father,  preserved  some 
regard  for  his  memory,  though  she  could  not  help 
wishing  that  his  affection  had  been  strong  enough  to 
induce  him  to  save  a  provision  for  her.  She  was 
ashamed,  too,  of  the  very  recollection  of  his  habit  of 
getting  drunk  at  races,  regattas,  and  other  national 
festivals,  by  an  accident  at  one  of  which  he  had  met 
his  death. 

Alice  went  home  from  the  castle  expecting  to  find 
the  household  divided  between  joy  at  her  good-fortune 
and  grief  at  losing  her;  for  her  views  of  human 
nature  and  parental  feeling  were  as  yet  pure  supersti- 
tions. But  Mrs.  Goff  at  once  became  envious  of  the 
luxury  her  daughter  was  about  to  enjoy,  and  over- 
whelmed her  with  accusations  of  want  of  feeling, 
5  65 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

eagerness  to  desert  her  mother,  and  vain  love  of  pleas- 
ure. Alice,  who  loved  Mrs.  Goff  so  well  that  she  had 
often  told  her  as  many  as  five  different  lies  in  the 
course  of  one  afternoon  to  spare  her  some  unpleasant 
truth,  and  would  have  scouted  as  infamous  any  sug- 
gestion that  her  parent  was  more  selfish  than  saintly, 
soon  burst  into  tears,  declaring  that  she  would  not 
return  to  the  castle,  and  that  nothing  would  have 
induced  her  to  stay  there  the  night  before  had  she 
thought  that  her  doing  so  could  give  pain  at  home. 
This  alarmed  Mrs.  Goff,  who  knew  by  experience  that 
it  was  easier  to  drive  Alice  upon  rash  resolves  than  to 
shake  her  in  them  afterwards.  Fear  of  incurring 
blame  in  Wiltstoken  for  wantonly  opposing  her 
daughter's  obvious  interests,  and  of  losing  her  share 
of  Miss  Carew's  money  and  countenance,  got  the  better 
of  her  jealousy.  She  lectured  Alice  severely  for  her 
headstrong  temper,  and  commanded  her,  on  her  duty 
not  only  to  her  mother,  but  also  and  chiefly  to  her 
God,  to  accept  Miss  Carew's  offer  with  thankfulness, 
and  to  insist  upon  a  definite  salary  as  soon  as  she  had, 
by  good  behavior,  made  her  society  indispensable  at 
the  castle.  Alice,  dutiful  as  she  was,  reduced  Mrs. 
Goff  to  entreaties,  and  even  to  symptoms  of  an  out- 
burst of  violent  grief  for  the  late  Mr.  Goff,  before  she 
consented  to  obey  her.  She  would  wait,  she  said, 
until  Janet,  who  was  absent  teaching,  came  in,  and 
promised  to  forgive  her  for  staying  away  the  previous 
night  (Mrs.  Goff  had  falsely  represented  that  Janet 
had  been  deeply  hurt,  and  had  lain  awake  weeping 
during  the  small  hours  of  the  morning).    The  mother, 

66 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

seeing  nothing  for  it  but  either  to  get  rid  of  Alice 
before  Janet's  return  or  to  be  detected  in  a  spiteful 
untruth,  had  to  pretend  that  Janet  was  spending  the 
evening  with  some  friends,  and  to  urge  the  unkind- 
ness  of  leaving  Miss  Oarew  lonely.  At  last  Alice 
washed  away  the  traces  of  her  tears  and  returned  to 
the  castle,  feeling  very  miserable,  and  trying  to  com- 
fort herself  with  the  reflection  that  her  sister  had  been 
spared  the  scene  which  had  just  passed. 

Lucian  Webber  had  not  arrived  when  she  reached 
the  castle.  Miss  Carew  glanced  at  her  melancholy 
face  as  she  entered,  but  asked  no  questions.  Pres- 
ently, however,  she  put  down  her  book,  considered 
for  a  moment,  and  said, 

"It  is  nearly  three  years  since  I  have  had  a  new 
dress."  Alice  looked  up  with  interest.  "Now  that 
I  have  you  to  help  me  to  choose,  I  think  I  will  be 
extravagant  enough  to  renew  my  entire  wardrobe.  I 
wish  you  would  take  this  opportunity  to  get  some 
things  for  yourself.  You  will  find  that  my  dress- 
maker, Madame  Smith,  is  to  be  depended  on  for 
work,  though  she  is  expensive  and  dishonest.  When 
we  are  tired  of  Wiltstoken  we  will  go  to  Paris,  and  be 
millinered  there;  but  in  the  meantime  we  can  resort 
to  Madame  Smith." 

"I  cannot  afford  expensive  dresses,"  said  Alice. 

"  I  should  not  ask  you  to  get  them  if  you  could  not 
afford  them.  I  warned  you  that  I  should  give  you 
expensive  habits." 

Alice  hesitated.  She  had  a  healthy  inclination  to 
take  whatever  she  could  get  on  all  occasions;   and 

67 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

she  had  suffered  too  much  from  poverty  not  to  be  more 
thankful  for  her  good-fortune  than  humiliated  by  Miss 
Carew's  bounty.  But  the  thought  of  being  driven, 
richly  attired,  in  one  of  the  castle  carriages,  and  meet- 
ing Janet  trudging  about  her  daily  tasks  in  cheap 
black  serge  and  mended  gloves,  made  Alice  feel  that 
she  deserved  all  her  mother's  reproaches.  However, 
it  was  obvious  that  a  refusal  would  be  of  no  material 
benefit  to  Janet,  so  she  said, 

"Really  I  could  not  think  of  imposing  on  your 
kindness  in  this  wholesale  fashion.  You  are  too  good 
to  me." 

"  I  will  write  to  Madame  Smith  this  evening,"  said 
Lydia. 

Alice  was  about  to  renew  her  protest  more  faintly, 
when  a  servant  entered  and  announced  Mr.  Webber. 
She  stiffened  herself  to  receive  the  visitor.  Lydia's 
manner  did  not  alter  in  the  least.  Lucian,  whose 
demeanor  resembled  Miss  Goff's  rather  than  his 
cousin's,  went  through  the  ceremony  of  introduction 
with  solemnity,  and  was  received  with  a  dash  of  scorn ; 
for  Alice,  though  secretly  awe-stricken,  bore  herself 
tyrannically  towards  men  from  habit. 

In  reply  to  Alice,  Mr.  Webber  thought  the  day 
cooler  than  yesterday.  In  reply  to  Lydia,  he  admitted 
that  the  resolution  of  which  the  leader  of  the  opposi- 
tion had  given  notice  was  tantamount  to  a  vote  of 
censure  on  the  government.  He  was  confident  that 
ministers  would  have  a  majority.  He  had  no  news  of 
any  importance.  He  had  made  the  journey  down 
with  Lord  Worthington,  who  had  come  to  Wiltstoken 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

to  see  the  invalid  at  the  Warren.  He  had  promised 
to  return  with  him  in  the  seven-thirty  train. 

When  they  went  down  to  dinner,  Alice,  profiting 
by  her  experience  of  the  day  before,  faced  the  servants 
with  composure,  and  committed  no  solecisms.  Un- 
able to  take  part  in  the  conversation,  as  she  knew 
little  of  literature  and  nothing  of  politics,  which  were 
the  staple  of  Lucian's  discourse,  she  sat  silent,  and 
reconsidered  an  old  opinion  of  hers  that  it  was  ridicu- 
lous and  ill-bred  in  a  lady  to  discuss  anything  that  was 
in  the  newspapers.  She  was  impressed  by  Lucian's 
cautious  and  somewhat  dogmatic  style  of  conversa- 
tion, and  concluded  that  he  knew  everything.  Lydia 
seemed  interested  in  his  information,  but  quite  indif- 
ferent to  his  opinions. 

Towards  half -past  seven  Lydia  proposed  that  they 
should  walk  to  the  railway  station,  adding,  as  a  reason 
for  going,  that  she  wished  to  make  some  bets  with 
Lord  Worthington.  Lucian  looked  grave  at  this,  and 
Alice,  to  show  that  she  shared  his  notions  of  propri- 
ety, looked  shocked.  Neither  demonstration  had  the 
slightest  effect  on  Lydia.  On  their  way  to  the  station 
he  remarked, 

"  Worthington  is  afraid  of  you,  Lydia — needlessly, 
as  it  seems." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you  are  so  learned,  and  he  so  ignorant. 
He  has  no  culture  save  that  of  the  turf.  But  perhaps 
you  have  more  sympathy  with  his  tastes  than  he  sup- 


"  I  like  him  because  I  have  not  read  the  books  from 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

which  he  has  borrowed  his  opinions.  Indeed,  from 
their  freshness,  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
he  had  them  at  first  hand  from  living  men,  or  even 
from  his  own  observation  of  life." 

"  I  may  explain  to  you,  Miss  Goff,"  said  Lucian, 
"  that  Lord  Worthington  is  a  young  gentleman — " 

""Whose  calendar  is  the  racing  calendar,"  inter- 
posed Lydia,  "and  who  interests  himself  in  favorites 
and  outsiders  much  as  Lucian  does  in  prime-ministers 
and  independent  radicals.  Would  you  like  to  go  to 
Ascot,  Alice  ?  " 

Alice  answered,  as  she  felt  Lucian  wished  her  to 
answer,  that  she  had  never  been  to  a  race,  and  that 
she  had  no  desire  to  go  to  one. 

"  You  will  change  your  mind  in  time  for  next  year's 
meeting.  A  race  interests  every  one,  which  is  more 
than  can  be  said  for  the  opera  or  the  Academy." 

"I  have  been  at  the  Academy,"  said  Alice,  who 
had  made  a  trip  to  London  once. 

"Indeed!"  said  Lydia.  "Were  you  in  the  Na- 
tional Gallery  ?  " 

"  The  National  Gallery  !     I  think  not.      I  forget." 

"  I  know  many  persons  who  never  miss  an  Academy, 
and  who  do  not  know  where  the  National  Gallery  is. 
Did  you  enjoy  the  pictures,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  much  indeed." 

"You  will  find  Ascot  far  more  amusing." 

"Let  me  warn  you,"  said  Lucian  to  Alice,  "that 
my  cousin's  pet  caprice  is  to  affect  a  distaste  for  art, 
to  which  she  is  passionately  devoted ;  and  for  litera- 
ture, in  which  she  is  profoundly  read." 

70 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Cousin  Lucian,"  said  Lydia,  "  should  you  ever  be 
cut  off  from  your  politics,  and  disappointed  in  your 
ambition,  you  will  have  an  opportunity  of  living  upon 
art  and  literature.  Then  I  shall  aspect  your  opinion 
of  their  satisfactoriness  as  a  staff  of  life.  As  yet  you 
have  only  tried  them  as  a  sauce." 

"  Discontented,  as  usual,"  said  Lucian. 

"Your  one  idea  respecting  me,  as  usual,"  replied 
Lydia,  patiently,  as  they  entered  the  station. 

The  train,  consisting  of  three  carriages  and  a  van, 
was  waiting  at  the  platform.  The  engine  was  hum- 
ming subduedly,  and  the  driver  and  fireman  were 
leaning  out;  the  latter,  a  young  man,  eagerly  watch- 
ing two  gentlemen  who  were  standing  before  the  first- 
class  carriage,  and  the  driver  sharing  his  curiosity  in 
an  elderly,  preoccupied  manner.  One  of  the  persons 
thus  observed  was  a  slight,  fair-haired  man  of  about 
twenty-five,  in  the  afternoon  costume  of  a  metropol- 
itan dandy.  Lydia  knew  the  other  the  moment  she 
came  upon  the  platform  as  the  Hermes  of  the  day 
before,  modernized  by  a  straw  hat,  a  canary-colored 
scarf,  and  a  suit  of  a  minute  black-and-white  chess- 
board pattern,  with  a  crimson  silk  handkerchief  over- 
flowing the  breast  pocket  of  the  coat.  His  hands  were 
unencumbered  by  stick  or  umbrella;  he  carried  him- 
self smartly,  balancing  himself  so  accurately  that  he 
seemed  to  have  no  weight;  and  his  expression  was 
self-satisfied  and  good-humored.  But — !  Lydia  felt 
that  there  was  a  "  but "  somewhere — that  he  must  be 
something  more  than  a  handsome,  powerful,  and  light- 
hearted  young  man. 

71 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  There  is  Lord  Worthington,"  she  said,  indicating 
the  slight  gentleman.  "Surely  that  cannot  be  his 
invalid  friend  with  him  ?  " 

"That  is  the  man  that  lives  at  the  Warren,"  said 
Alice.     "  I  know  his  appearance." 

"  Which  is  certainly  not  suggestive  of  a  valetudina- 
rian," remarked  Lucian,  looking  hard  at  the  stranger. 

They  had  now  come  close  to  the  two,  and  could  hear 
Lord  Worthington,  as  he  prepared  to  enter  the  car- 
riage, saying,  "  Take  care  of  yourself,  like  a  good  fel- 
low, won't  you?  Kemember  !  if  it  lasts  a  second 
over  the  fifteen  minutes,  I  shall  drop  five  hundred 
pounds." 

Hermes  placed  his  arm  round  the  shoulders  of  the 
young  lord  and  gave  him  a  playful  roll.  Then  he  said 
with  good  accent  and  pronunciation,  but  with  a  cer- 
tain rough  quality  of  voice,  and  louder  than  English 
gentlemen  usually  speak,  "Your  money  is  as  safe  as 
the  mint,  my  boy." 

Evidently,  Alice  thought,  the  stranger  was  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  Lord  Worthington.  She  resolved  to 
be  particular  in  her  behavior  before  him,  if  introduced. 

"Lord  Worthington,"  said  Lydia. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  he  climbed  hastily  down 
from  the  step  of  the  carriage,  and  said  in  some  confu- 
sion, "  How  d'  do,  Miss  Carew.  Lovely  country  and 
lovely  weather — must  agree  awfully  well  with  you. 
Plenty  of  leisure  for  study,  I  hope." 

"  Thank  you;  I  never  study  now.  Will  you  make  a 
book  for  me  at  Ascot  ?  " 

He  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  ashamed 
73 


Cashel  Byron's  Piofession 

of  my  low  tastes,"  he  said;  "but  I  haven't  the  heap 
to  distinguish  myself  in  your —    Eh  ?  " 

Miss  Carew  was  saying  in  a  low  voice,  "If  your 
friend  is  my  tenant,  introduce  him  to  me." 

Lord  Worthington  hesitated,  looked  at  Lucian, 
seemed  perplexed  and  amused  at  the  same  time,  and 
at  last  said, 

"  You  really  wish  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Lydia.    "  Is  there  any  reason — " 

"  Oh,  not  the  least  in  the  world  since  you  wish 
it,"  he  replied  quickly,  his  eyes  twinkling  mischiev- 
ously as  he  turned  to  his  companion  who  was  standing 
at  the  carriage  door  admiring  Lydia,  and  being  him- 
self admired  by  the  stoker.  "  Mr.  Cashel  Byron :  Miss 
Carew." 

Mr.  Cashel  Byron  raised  his  straw  hat  and  reddened 
a  little;  but,  on  the  whole,  bore  himself  like  an  emi- 
nent man  who  was  not  proud.  As,  however,  he 
seemed  to  have  nothing  to  say  for  himself,  Lord  Worth- 
ington hastened  to  avert  silence  by  resuming  the  sub- 
ject of  Ascot.  Lydia  listened  to  him,  and  looked  at 
her  new  acquaintance.  Now  that  the  constraint  of 
society  had  banished  his  former  expression  of  easy 
good-humor,  there  was  something  formidable  in  him 
that  gave  her  an  unaccountable  thrill  of  pleasure.  The 
same  impression  of  latent  danger  had  occurred,  less 
agreeably,  to  Lucian,  who  was  affected  much  as  he 
might  have  been  by  the  proximity  of  a  large  dog  of 
doubtful  temper.  Lydia  thought  that  Mr.  Byron  did 
not,  at  first  sight,  like  her  cousin ;  for  he  was  looking 
at  him  obliquely,  as  though  steadily  measuring  him. 

73 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

The  group  was  broken  up  by  the  guard  admonishing 
the  gentlemen  to  take  their  seats.  Farewells  were 
exchanged;  and  Lord  Worthington  cried,  "Take  care 
of  yourself,"  to  Cashel  Byron,  who  replied  somewhat 
impatiently,  and  with  an  apprehensive  glance  at  Miss 
Carew,  "  All  right !  all  right !  Never  you  fear,  sir." 
Then  the  train  went  off,  and  he  was  left  on  the  plat- 
form with  the  two  ladies. 

"  We  are  returning  to  the  park,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron," 
said  Lydia. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  he.  "  Perhaps — "  Here  he  broke 
down,  and  looked  at  Alice  to  avoid  Lydia's  eye. 
Then  they  went  out  together. 

When  they  had  walked  some  distance  in  silence, 
Alice  looking  rigidly  before  her,  recollecting  with 
suspicion  that  he  had  just  addressed  Lord  Worthing- 
ton as  "  sir,"  while  Lydia  was  admiring  his  light  step 
and  perfect  balance,  which  made  him  seem  like  a  man 
of  cork;  he  said, 

"I  saw  you  in  the  park  yesterday,  and  I  thought 
you  were  a  ghost.  But  my  trai — my  man,  I  mean — 
saw  you  too.    I  knew  by  that  that  you  were  genuine." 

"Strange  !"  said  Lydia.  "I  had  the  same  fancy 
about  you." 

"What!  You  had!"  he  exclaimed,  looking  at 
her.  While  thus  unmindful  of  his  steps,  he  stumbled, 
and  recovered  himself  with  a  stifled  oath.  Then  he 
became  very  red,  and  remarked  that  it  was  a  warm 
evening. 

Miss  Goff,  whom  he  had  addressed,  assented.  "  I 
hope,"  she  added,  "  that  you  are  better." 

74 


Cash  el  Byron's  Profession 

He  looked  puzzled.  Concluding,  after  considera- 
tion, that  she  had  referred  to  his  stumble,  he  said, 

"  Thank  you:  I  didn't  hurt  myself." 

"  Lord  Worthington  has  been  telling  us  about  you," 
said  Lydia.  He  recoiled,  evidently  deeply  mortified. 
She  hastened  to  add,  "  He  mentioned  that  you  had 
come  down  here  to  recruit  your  health;  that  is  all." 

CashePs  features  relaxed  into  a  curious  smile.  But 
presently  he  became  suspicious,  and  said,  anxiously, 
"  He  didn't  tell  you  anything  else  about  me,  did  he  ?  " 

Alice  stared  at  him  superciliously.  Lydia  replied, 
"No.     Nothing  else." 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  heard  my  name  some- 
where," he  persisted. 

"Perhaps  I  have;  but  I  cannot  recall  in  what 
connection.  Why?  Do  you  know  any  friend  of 
mine?" 

"  Oh,  no.     Only  Lord  Worthington." 

"  I  conclude  then  that  you  are  celebrated,  and  that 
I  have  the  misfortune  not  to  know  it,  Mr.  Cashel 
Byron.     Is  it  so?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  replied,  hastily.  "There's 
no  reason  why  you  should  ever  have  heard  of  me.  I 
am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  inquiries,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  Alice.  "  I'm  quite  well  now, 
thank  you.     The  country  has  set  me  right  again." 

Alice,  who  was  beginning  to  have  her  doubts  of  Mr. 
Byron,  in  spite  of  his  familiarity  with  Lord  Worthing- 
ton, smiled  falsely  and  drew  herself  up  a  little.  He 
turned  away  from  her,  hurt  by  her  manner,  and  so  ill 
able  to  conceal  his  feelings  that  Miss  Carew,  who  was 

75 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

watching  him,  set  him  down  privately  as  the  most 
inept  dissimulator  she  had  ever  met.  He  looked  at 
Lydia  wistfully,  as  if  trying  to  read  her  thoughts, 
which  now  seemed  to  be  with  the  setting  sun,  or  in 
some  equally  beautiful  and  mysterious  region.  But 
he  could  see  that  there  was  no  reflection  of  Miss  Goff's 
scorn  in  her  face. 

"  And  so  you  really  took  me  for  a  ghost,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.     I  thought  at  first  that  you  were  a  statue." 

"A  statue!" 

"  You  do  not  seem  flattered  by  that." 

"It  is  not  flattering  to  be  taken  for  a  lump  of 
stone,"  he  replied,  ruefully. 

Lydia  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  Here  was  a 
man  whom  she  had  mistaken  for  the  finest  image  of 
manly  strength  and  beauty  in  the  world;  and  he  was 
so  devoid  of  artistic  culture  that  he  held  a  statue  to 
be  a  distasteful  lump  of  stone. 

"  I  believe  I  was  trespassing  then,"  she  said;  "  but 
I  did  so  unintentionally.  I  had  gone  astray;  for  I 
am  comparatively  a  stranger  here,  and  cannot  find  my 
way  about  the  park  yet." 

"  It  didn't  matter  a  bit,"  said  Cashel,  impetuously. 
"  Come  as  often  as  you  want.  Mellish  fancies  that  if 
any  one  gets  a  glimpse  of  me  he  won't  get  any  odds. 
You  see  he  would  like  people  to  think — "  Cashel 
checked  himself,  and  added,  in  some  confusion,  "  Mel- 
lish is  mad;  that's  about  where  it  is." 

Alice  glanced  significantly  at  Lydia.  She  had 
already  suggested  that  madness  was  the  real  reason  of 
the  seclusion  of  the  tenants  at  the  Warren.     Cashel 

76 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

fe*tw  the  glance,  and  intercepted  it  by  turning  to  her 
and  saying,  with  an  attempt  at  conversational  ease, 

"  How  do  you  young  ladies  amuse  yourselves  in  the 
country  ?    Do  you  play  billiards  ever  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Alice,  indignantly.  The  question,  she 
thought,  implied  that  she  was  capable  of  spending  her 
evenings  on  the  first  floor  of  a  public-house.  To  her 
surprise,  Lydia  remarked, 

"  I  play — a  little.  I  do  not  care  sufficiently  for  the 
game  to  make  myself  proficient.  You  were  equipped 
for  lawn-tennis,  I  think,  when  I  saw  you  yesterday. 
Miss  Goff  is  a  celebrated  lawn-tennis  player.  She 
vanquished  the  Australian  champion  last  year." 

It  seemed  that  Byron,  after  all,  was  something  of  a 
courtier;  for  he  displayed  great  astonishment  at  this 
feat.  "  The  Australian  champion  !  "  he  repeated. 
"  And  who  may  he —  Oh  !  you  mean  the  lawn- tennis 
champion.  To  be  sure.  "Well,  Miss  Goff,  I  congratu- 
late you.  It  is  not  every  amateur  that  can  brag  of 
having  shown  a  professional  to  a  back  seat." 

Alice,  outraged  by  the  imputation  of  bragging,  and 
certain  that  slang  was  vulgar,  whatever  billiards  might 
be,  bore  herself  still  more  loftily,  and  resolved  to  snub 
him  explicitly  if  he  addressed  her  again.  But  he  did 
not;  for  they  presently  came  to  a  narrow  iron  gate  in 
the  wall  of  the  park,  at  which  Lydia  stopped. 

"Let  me  open  it  for  you,"  said  Cashel.  She  gave 
him  the  key,  and  he  seized  one  of  the  bars  of  the  gate 
with  his  left  hand,  and  stooped  as  though  he  wanted 
to  look  into  the  keyhole.  Yet  he  opened  it  smartly 
enough. 

77 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Alice  was  about  to  pass  in  with  a  cool  bow  when  she 
saw  Miss  Carew  offer  Cashel  her  hand.  Whatever 
Lydia  did  was  done  so  well  that  it  seemed  the  right 
thing  to  do.  He  took  it  timidly  and  gave  it  a  little 
shake,  not  daring  to  meet  her  eyes.  Alice  put  out  her 
hand  stiffly.  Cashel  immediately  stepped  forward 
with  his  right  foot  and  enveloped  her  fingers  with  the 
hardest  clump  of  knuckles  she  had  ever  felt.  Glanc- 
ing down  at  this  remarkable  fist,  she  saw  that  it  was 
discolored  almost  to  blackness.  Then  she  went  in 
through  the  gate,  followed  by  Lydia,  who  turned  to 
close  it  behind  her.  As  she  pushed,  Cashel,  standing 
outside,  grasped  a  bar  and  pulled.  She  at  once  relin- 
quished to  him  the  labor  of  shutting  the  gate,  and 
smiled  her  thanks  as  she  turned  away;  but  in  that 
moment  he  plucked  up  courage  to  look  at  her.  The 
sensation  of  being  so  looked  at  was  quite  novel  to  her 
and  very  curious.  She  was  even  a  little  out  of  coun- 
tenance, but  not  so  much  so  as  Cashel,  who  neverthe- 
less could  not  take  his  eyes  away. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Alice,  as  they  crossed  the 
orchard,  "that  that  man  is  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"How  can  I  possibly  tell?  We  hardly  know 
him." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  ?  There  is  always  a  cer- 
tain something  about  a  gentleman  that  one  recognizes 
by  instinct." 

"  Is  there  ?    I  have  never  observed  it." 

"  Have  you  not  ?  "  said  Alice,  surprised,  and  begin- 
ning uneasily  to  fear  that  her  superior  perception  of 
gentility  was  in  some  way  the  effect  of  her  social  infe- 

78 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

riority  to  Miss  Carew.  "I  thought  one  could  always 
tell." 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Lydia.  "For  my  own  part  I 
have  found  the  same  varieties  of  address  in  every 
class.  Some  people  enjoy  a  native  distinction  and 
grace  of  manner — " 

61  That  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Alice. 

"  — but  they  are  seldom  ladies  and  gentlemen;  often 
actors,  gypsies,  and  Celtic  or  foreign  peasants.  Un- 
doubtedly one  can  make  a  fair  guess,  but  not  in  the 
case  of  this  Mr.  Cashel  Byron.  Are  you  curious  about 
him?" 

"I!"  exclaimed  Alice,  superbly.  "Not  in  the 
least." 

"I. am.  He  interests  me.  I  seldom  see  anything 
novel  in  humanity;  and  he  is  a  very  singular  man." 

"  I  meant,"  said  Alice,  crestfallen,  "  that  I  take  no 
special  interest  in  him." 

Lydia,  not  being  curious  as  to  the  exact  degree  of 
Alice's  interest,  merely  nodded,  and  continued,  "  He 
may,  as  you  suppose,  be  a  man  of  humble  origin  who 
has  seen  something  of  society;  or  he  may  be  a  gentle- 
man unaccustomed  to  society.  Probably  the  latter. 
I  feel  no  conviction  either  way." 

"  But  he  speaks  very  roughly;  and  his  slang  is  dis- 
gusting. His  hands  are  hard  and  quite  black.  Did 
you  not  notice  them  ?  " 

"  I  noticed  it  all;  and  I  think  that  if  he  were  a  man 
of  low  condition  he  would  be  careful  not  to  use  slang. 
Self-made  persons  are  usually  precise  in  their  lan- 
guage; they  rarely  violate  the  written  laws  of  society. 

79 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Besides,  his  pronunciation  of  some  words  is  so  dis- 
tinct that  an  idea  crossed  me  once  that  he  might  be 
an  actor.  But  then  it  is  not  uniformly  distinct.  I 
am  sure  that  he  has  some  object  or  occupation  in  life: 
he  has  not  the  air  of  an  idler.  Yet  I  have  thought  of 
all  the  ordinary  professions,  and  he  does  not  fit  one  of 
them.  This  is  perhaps  what  makes  him  interesting. 
He  is  unaccountable." 

"  He  must  have  some  position.  He  was  very  famil- 
iar with  Lord  Worthington." 

"  Lord  Worthington  is  a  sportsman,  and  is  familiar 
with  all  sorts  of  people." 

"  Yes;  but  surely  he  would  not  let  a  jockey,  or  any- 
body of  that  class,  put  his  arm  round  his  neck,  as  we 
saw  Mr.  Byron  do." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Lydia,  thoughtfully.  "  Still," 
she  added,  clearing  her  brow  and  laughing,  "I  am 
loath  to  believe  that  he  is  an  invalid  student." 

"I  will  tell  you  what  he  is,"  said  Alice  suddenly. 
"  He  is  companion  and  keeper  to  the  man  with  whom 
he  lives.  Do  you  recollect  his  saying  'Mellish  is 
mad'?" 

"That  is  possible,"  said  Lydia.  "At  all  events 
we  have  got  a  topic;  and  that  is  an  important  home 
comfort  in  the  country." 

Just  then  they  reached  the  castle.  Lydia  lingered 
for  a  moment  on  the  terrace.  The  Gothic  chimneys 
of  the  Warren  Lodge  stood  up  against  the  long,  crim- 
son cloud  into  which  the  sun  was  sinking.  She  smiled 
as  if  some  quaint  idea  had  occurred  to  her;  raised  her 
eyes  for  a  moment  to  the  black-marble  Egyptian  gazing 

80 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

with  unwavering  eyes  into  the  sky;  and  followed  Alice 
in-doors. 

Later  on,  when  it  was  quite  dark,  Cashel  sat  in  a 
spacious  kitchen  at  the  lodge,  thinking.  His  com- 
panion, who  had  laid  his  coat  aside,  was  at  the  fire, 
smoking,  and  watching  a  saucepan  that  simmered 
there.  He  broke  the  silence  by  remarking,  after  a 
glance  at  the  clock,  "  Time  to  go  to  roost." 

"Time  to  go  to  the  devil,"  said  Cashel.  "I  am 
going  out." 

"  Yes,  and  get  a  chill.   Not  if  I  know  it  you  don't." 

"  Well,  go  to  bed  yourself,  and  then  you  won't 
know  it.     I  want  to  take  a  walk  round  the  place." 

"  If  you  put  your  foot  outside  that  door  to-night 
Lord  Worthington  will  lose  his  five  hundred  pounds. 
You  can't  lick  any  one  in  fifteen  minutes  if  you  train 
on  night  air.     Get  licked  yourself  more  likely." 

"  Will  you  bet  two  to  one  that  I  don't  stay  out  all 
night  and  knock  the  Flying  Dutchman  out  of  time  in 
the  first  round  afterwards  ?     Eh  ?  " 

"Come,"  said  Mellish,  coaxingly;  "have  some 
common-sense.     I'm  advising  you  for  your  good." 

"  Suppose  I  don't  want  to  be  advised  for  my  good. 
Eh  ?  Hand  me  over  that  lemon.  You  needn't  start 
a  speech;  I'm  not  going  to  eat  it." 

"  Blest  if  he  ain't  rubbing  his  'ands  with  it !  "  ex- 
claimed Mellish,  after  watching  him  for  some  moments. 
"Why,  you  bloomin'  fool,  lemon  won't  'arden  your 
'ands.     Ain't  I  took  enough  trouble  with  them  ?  " 

"I  want  to  whiten  them,"  said  Cashel,  impatiently 
throwing  the  lemon  under  the  grate;  "but  it's  no 
,6  81 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

use;  I  can't  go  about  with  my  fists  like  a  nigger's.  I'll 
go  up  to  London  to-morrow  and  buy  a  pair  of  gloves." 

"  What  !     Real  gloves  ?     Wearin'  gloves  ?  " 

"  You  thundering  old  lunatic,"  said  Cashel,  rising 
and  putting  on  his  hat;  "is  it  likely  that  I  want  a 
pair  of  mufflers  ?  Perhaps  you  think  you  could  teach 
me  something  with  them.  Ha  !  ha  !  By-the-bye — 
now  mind  this,  Mellish — don't  let  it  out  down  here 
that  I'm  a  fighting  man.     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Me  let  it  out !  "  cried  Mellish,  indignantly.  "  Is  it 
likely  ?    Now,  I  asts  you,  Cashel  Byron,  is  it  likely  ?  " 

"  Likely  or  not,  don't  do  it,"  said  Cashel.  "  You 
might  get  talking  with  some  of  the  chaps  about  the 
castle  stables.  They  are  generous  with  their  liquor 
when  they  can  get  sporting  news  for  it." 

Mellish  looked  at  him  reproachfully,  and  Cashel 
turned  towards  the  door.  This  movement  changed 
the  trainer's  sense  of  injury  into  anxiety.  He  renewed 
his  remonstrances  as  to  the  folly  of  venturing  into  the 
night  air,  and  cited  many  examples  of  pugilists  who 
had  suffered  defeat  in  consequence  of  neglecting  the 
counsel  of  their  trainers.  Cashel  expressed  his  disbelief 
in  these  anecdotes  in  brief  and  personal  terms;  and  at 
last  Mellish  had  to  content  himself  with  proposing  to 
limit  the  duration  of  the  walk  to  half  an  hour. 

"Perhaps  I  will  come  back  in  half  an  hour,"  said 
Cashel,  "and  perhaps  I  won't." 

"Well,  look  here,"  said  Mellish;  "we  won't  quar- 
rel about  a  minute  or  two;  but  I  feel  the  want  of  a 
walk  myself,  and  I'll  come  with  you." 

»rm  d d  if  you  shall,"  said  Cashel.     "Here, 

82 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

let  me  out;  and  shut  up.  I'm  not  going  further 
than  the  park.  I  have  no  intention  of  making  a  night 
of  it  in  the  village,  which  is  what  you  are  afraid  of.  I 
know  you,  you  old  dodger.  If  you  don't  get  out  of 
my  way  I'll  seat  you  on  the  fire." 

"But  duty,  Cashel,  duty,"  pleaded  Mellish,  per- 
suasively. "  Every  man  oughter  do  his  duty.  Con- 
sider your  duty  to  your  backers." 

"  Are  you  going  to  get  out  of  my  way,  or  must  I 
put  you  out  of  it  ?  "  said  Cashel,  reddening  ominously. 

Mellish  went  back  to  his  chair,  bowed  his  head  on 
his  hands,  and  wept.  "  I'd  sooner  be  a  dog  nor  a 
trainer,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Oh !  the  cussedness  of  bein' 
shut  up  for  weeks  with  a  fightin'  man  !  For  the  fust 
two  days  they're  as  sweet  as  treacle;  and  then  their 
contrairyness  comes  out.    Their  tempers  is  puffict  'ell. " 

Cashel,  additionally  enraged  by  a  sting  of  remorse, 
went  out  and  slammed  the  door.  He  made  straight 
towards  the  castle,  and  watched  its  windows  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  keeping  in  constant  motion  so  as  to 
avert  a  chill.  At  last  an  exquisitely  toned  bell  struck 
the  hour  from  one  of  the  minarets.  To  Cashel,  accus- 
tomed to  the  coarse  jangling  of  ordinary  English  bells, 
the  sound  seemed  to  belong  to  fairyland.  He  went 
slowly  back  to  the  Warren  Lodge,  and  found  his 
trainer  standing  at  the  open  door,  smoking,  and  anx- 
iously awaiting  his  return.  Cashel  rebuffed  certain 
conciliatory  advances  with  a  haughty  reserve  more 
dignified,  but  much  less  acceptable  to  Mr.  Mellish, 
than  his  former  profane  familiarity,  and  went  contem- 
platively to  bed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Oke  morning  Miss  Carew  sat  on  the  bank  of  a  great 
pool  in  the  park,  throwing  pebbles  two  by  two  into 
the  water,  and  intently  watching  the  intersection  of 
the  circles  they  made  on  its  calm  surface.  Alice  was 
seated  on  a  camp-stool  a  little  way  off,  sketching  the 
castle,  which  appeared  on  an  eminence  to  the  south- 
east. The  woodland  rose  round  them  like  the  sides  of 
an  amphitheatre;  but  the  trees  did  not  extend  to  the 
water's  edge,  where  there  was  an  ample  margin  of 
bright  greensward  and  a  narrow  belt  of  gravel,  from 
which  Lydia  was  picking  her  pebbles. 

Presently,  hearing  a  footstep,  she  looked  back,  and 
saw  Cashel  Byron  standing  behind  Alice,  apparently 
much  interested  in  her  drawing.  He  was  dressed  as 
she  had  last  seen  him,  except  that  he  wore  primrose 
gloves  and  an  Egyptian  red  scarf.  Alice  turned,  and 
surveyed  him  with  haughty  surprise;  but  he  made 
nothing  of  her  looks;  and  she,  after  glancing  at  Lydia 
to  reassure  herself  that  she  was  not  alone,  bade  him 
good-morning,  and  resumed  her  work. 

"Queer  place,"  he  remarked,  after  a  pause,  allud- 
ing to  the  castle.     "  Chinese  looking,  isn't  it?  " 

"  It  is  considered  a  very  fine  building,"  said  Alice. 

"Oh,  hang  what  it  is  considered  !"  said  Cashel. 
"  What  is  it  ?    That  is  the  point  to  look  to." 

84 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

u  It  is  a  matter  of  taste,"  said  Alice,  very  coldly. 

"Mr.  Cashel  Byron." 

Cashel  started  and  hastened  to  the  bank.  "  How 
d'ye  do,  Miss  Carew,"  he  said.  "I  didn't  see  you 
until  you  called  me."  She  looked  at  him;  and  he, 
convicted  of  a  foolish  falsehood,  quailed.  "  There  is 
a  splendid  view  of  the  castle  from  here,"  he  continued, 
to  change  the  subject.  "  Miss  Goff  and  I  have  just 
been  talking  about  it." 

"  Yes.     Do  you  admire  it  ?  " 

"  Very  much  indeed.  It  is  a  beautiful  place. 
Every  one  must  acknowledge  that." 

"It  is  considered  kind  to  praise  my  house  to  me, 
and  to  ridicule  it  to  other  people.  You  do  not  say, 
1  Hang  what  it  is  considered,'  now." 

Cashel,  with  an  unaccustomed  sense  of  getting  the 
worst  of  an  encounter,  almost  lost  heart  to  reply. 
Then  he  brightened,  and  said,  "  I  can  tell  you  how 
that  is.  As  far  as  being  a  place  to  sketch,  or  for  an- 
other person  to  look  at,  it  is  Chinese  enough.  But 
somehow  your  living  in  it  makes  a  difference.  That 
is  what  I  meant;  upon  my  soul  it  is." 

Lydia  smiled;  but  he,  looking  down  at  her,  did  not 
see  the  smile  because  of  her  coronet  of  red  hair,  which 
seemed  to  flame  in  the  sunlight.  The  obstruction  was 
unsatisfactory  to  him;  he  wanted  to  see  her  face.  He 
hesitated,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  ground  beside  her 
cautiously,  as  if  getting  into  a  very  hot  bath. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  mind  my  sitting  here,"  he  said, 
timidly.  "  It  seems  rude  to  talk  down  at  you  from  a 
height." 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

She  shook  her  head  and  threw  two  more  stones  into 
fche  pool.  He  could  think  of  nothing  further  to  say, 
and  as  she  did  not  speak,  but  gravely  watched  the  cir- 
cles in  the  water,  he  began  to  stare  at  them  too;  and 
they  sat  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  steadfastly  re- 
garding the  waves,  she  as  if  there  were  matter  for 
infinite  thought  in  them,  and  he  as  though  the  spec- 
tacle wholly  confounded  him.       At  last  she  said, 

"  Have  you  ever  realized  what  a  vibration  is  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Cashel,  after  a  blank  look  at  her. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  make  that  admission. 
Science  has  reduced  everything  nowadays  to  vibration. 
Light,  sound,  sensation — all  the  mysteries  of  nature 
are  either  vibrations  or  interference  of  vibrations. 
There,"  she  said,  throwing  another  pair  of  pebbles  in, 
and  pointing  to  the  two  sets  of  widening  rings  as  they 
overlapped  one  another;  "  the  twinkling  of  a  star,  and 
the  pulsation  in  a  chord  of  music,  are  that.  But  I 
cannot  picture  the  thing  in  my  own  mind.  I  wonder 
whether  the  hundreds  of  writers  of  text-books  on 
physics,  who  talk  so  glibly  of  vibrations,  realize  them 
any  better  than  I  do." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Not  one  of  them.  Not  half  so 
well,"  said  Cashel,  cheerfully,  replying  to  as  much  of 
her  speech  as  he  understood. 

"Perhaps  the  subject  does  not  interest  you,"  she 
said,  turning  to  him. 

"  On  the  contrary;  I  like  it  of  all  things,"  said  he, 
boldly. 

"  I  can  hardly  say  so  much  for  my  own  interest  in 
it.      I  am  told  that  you  are  a  student,  Mr.  Cashel 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Byron.  What  are  your  favorite  studies  ? — or  rather, 
since  that  is  generally  a  hard  question  to  answer, 
what  are  your  pursuits?  " 

Alice  listened. 

Cashel  looked  doggedly  at  Lydia,  and  his  color 
slowly  deepened.     "lama  professor,"  he  said. 

"A  professor  of  what?  I  know  I  should  ask  of 
where;  but  that  would  only  elicit  the  name  of  a  col- 
lege, which  would  convey  no  real  information  to  me." 

"I  am  a  professor  of  science,"  said  Cashel,  in  a 
low  voice,  looking  down  at  his  left  fist,  which  he  was 
balancing  in  the  air  before  him,  and  stealthily  hitting 
his  bent  knee  as  if  it  were  another  person's  face. 

"  Physical  or  moral  science?  "  persisted  Lydia. 

"Physical  science,"  said  Cashel.  "But  there's 
more  moral  science  in  it  than  people  think." 

"Yes,"  said  Lydia,  seriously.  "Though  I  have 
no  real  knowledge  of  physics,  I  can  appreciate  the 
truth  of  that.  Perhaps  all  the  science  that  is  not 
at  bottom  physical  science  is  only  pretentious  ne- 
science. I  have  read  much  of  physics,  and  have  often 
been  tempted  to  learn  something  of  them — to  make 
the  experiments  with  my  own  hands — to  furnish  a 
laboratory — to  wield  the  scalpel  even.  For,  to  master 
science  thoroughly,  I  believe  one  must  take  one's 
gloves  off.     Is  that  your  opinion  ?  " 

Cashel  looked  hard  at  her.  "  You  never  spoke  a 
truer  word,"  he  said.  "  But  you  can  become  a  very 
respectable  amateur  by  working  with  the  gloves." 

"I  never  should.  The  many  who  believe  they  are 
the  wiser  for  reading  accounts  of  experiments  deceive 

87 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

themselves.  It  is  as  impossible  to  learn  science  from 
hearsay  as  to  gain  wisdom  from  proverbs.  Ah,  it  is 
so  easy  to  follow  a  line  of  argument,  and  so  difficult  to 
grasp  the  facts  that  underlie  it  !  Our  popular  lec- 
turers on  physics  present  us  with  chains  of  deductions 
so  highly  polished  that  it  is  a  luxury  to  let  them  slip 
from  end  to  end  through  our  fingers.  But  they  leave 
nothing  behind  but  a  vague  memory  of  the  sensation 
they  afforded.  Excuse  me  for  talking  figuratively.  I 
perceive  that  you  affect  the  opposite — a  reaction  on 
your  part,  I  suppose,  against  tall  talk  and  fine  writing. 
Pray,  should  I  ever  carry  out  my  intention  of  setting 
to  work  in  earnest  at  science,  will  you  give  me  some 
lessons?" 

" Well,"  said  Cashel,  with  a  covert  grin,  "  I  would 
rather  you  came  to  me  than  to  another  professor;  but 
I  don't  think  it  would  suit  you.  I  should  like  to  try 
my  hand  on  your  friend  there.  She's  stronger  and 
straighter  than  nine  out  of  ten  men." 

"You  set  a  high  value  on  physical  qualifications 
then.     So  do  I." 

"  Ouly  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  mind  you," 
said  Cashel,  earnestly.  "It  isn't  right  to  be  always 
looking  at  men  and  women  as  you  would  at  horses. 
If  you  want  to  back  them  in  a  race  or  in  a  fight,  that's 
one  thing;  but  if  you  want  a  friend  or  a  sweetheart, 
that's  another." 

"Quite  so,"  said  Lydia,  smiling.  "You  do  not 
wish  to  commit  yourself  to  any  warmer  feeling  towards 
Miss  Goff  than  a  critical  appreciation  of  her  form  and 
condition." 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"Just  that,"  said  Cashel,  satisfied.  " You  under- 
stand me,  Miss  Carew.  There  are  some  people  that 
you  might  talk  to  all  day,  and  they'd  be  no  wiser  at 
the  end  of  it  than  they  were  at  the  beginning.  You're 
not  one  of  that  sort." 

"I  wonder  do  we  ever  succeed  really  in  communi- 
cating our  thoughts  to  one  another.  A  thought  must 
take  a  new  shape  to  fit  itself  into  a  strange  mind. 
You,  Mr.  Professor,  must  have  acquired  special  expe- 
rience of  the  incommunicability  of  ideas  in  the  course 
of  your  lectures  and  lessons." 

Cashel  looked  uneasily  at  the  water,  and  said  in  a 
lower  voice,  "  Of  course  you  may  call  me  just  whatever 
you  like;  but — if  it's  all  the  same  to  you — I  wish  you 
wouldn't  call  me  professor." 

"  I  have  lived  so  much  in  countries  where  profes- 
sors expect  to  be  addressed  by  their  titles  on  all  occa- 
sions, that  I  may  claim  to  be  excused  for  having 
offended  on  that  point.  Thank  you  for  telling  me. 
But  I  am  to  blame  for  discussing  science  with  you. 
Lord  Worthington  told  us  that  you  had  come  down 
here  expressly  to  escape  from  it — to  recruit  yourself 
after  an  excess  of  work." 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  said  Cashel. 

"  I  have  not  done  harm  enough  to  be  greatly  con- 
cerned; but  I  will  not  offend  again.  To  change  the 
subject,  let  us  look  at  Miss  Goff's  sketch." 

Miss  Carew  had  hardly  uttered  this  suggestion, 
when  Cashel,  in  a  business-like  manner,  and  without 
the  slightest  air  of  gallantry,  expertly  lifted  her  and 
placed  her  on  her  feet.     This  unexpected  attention 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

gave  her  a  shock,  followed  by  a  thrill  that  was  not  dis- 
agreeable. She  turned  to  him  with  a  faint  mantling 
on  her  cheeks.  He  was  looking  with  contracted  brows 
at  the  sky,  as  though  occupied  with  some  calculation. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said;  "  but  pray  do  not  do  that 
again.  It  is  a  little  humiliating  to  be  lifted  like  a 
child.     You  are  very  strong." 

"  There  is  not  much  strength  needed  to  lift  such  a 
feather-weight  as  you.  Seven  stone  two,  I  should 
judge  you  to  be,  about.  But  there's  a  great  art  in 
doing  these  things  properly.  I  have  often  had  to  carry 
off  a  man  of  fourteen  stone,  resting  him  all  the  time 
as  if  he  was  in  bed." 

"Ah,"  said  Lydia;  "I  see  you  have  had  some  hos- 
pital practice.  I  have  often  admired  the  skill  with 
which  trained  nurses  handle  their  patients." 

Cashel  made  no  reply,  but,  with  a  sinister  grin, 
followed  her  to  where  Alice  sat. 

"It  is  very  foolish  of  me,  I  know,"  said  Alice, 
presently;  "but  I  never  can  draw  when  any  one  is 
looking  at  me." 

"  You  fancy  that  everybody  is  thinking  about  how 
you're  doing  it,"  said  Cashel,  encouragingly.  "  That's 
always  the  way  with  amateurs.  But  the  truth  is  that 
not  a  soul  except  yourself  is  a  bit  concerned  about  it. 
ifo-cuse  me,"  he  added,  taking  up  the  drawing,  and 
proceeding  to  examine  it  leisurely. 

"  Please  give  me  my  sketch,  Mr.  Byron,"  she  said, 
her  cheeks  red  with  anger.  Puzzled,  he  turned  to 
Lydia  for  an  explanation,  while  Alice  seized  the  sketch 
and  packed  it  in  her  portfolio. 

90 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"It  is  getting  rather  warm,"  said  Lydia.  "Shall 
we  return  to  the  castle  ?  " 

"I  think  we  had  better,"  said  Alice,  trembling 
with  resentment  as  she  walked  away  quickly,  leaving 
Lydia  alone  with  Cashel,  who  presently  exclaimed, 

"  What  in  thunder  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  You  have  made  an  inconsiderate  remark  with  un- 
mistakable sincerity." 

"  I  only  tried  to  cheer  her  up.  She  must  have  mis- 
taken what  I  said." 

"I  think  not.  Do  you  believe  that  young  ladies 
like  to  be  told  that  there  is  no  occasion  for  them  to  be 
ridiculously  self-conscious  ?  " 

"  I  say  that  !  I'll  take  my  oath  I  never  said  any- 
thing of  the  sort." 

"You  worded  it  differently.  But  you  assured  her 
that  she  need  not  object  to  have  her  drawing  over- 
looked, as  it  is  of  no  importance  to  any  one." 

"  Well,  if  she  takes  offence  at  that  she  must  be  a 
born  fool.  Some  people  can't  bear  to  be  told  any- 
thing- But  they  soon  get  all  that  thin-skinned  non- 
sense knocked  out  of  them." 

"  Have  you  any  sisters,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  ?  " 

"No.     Why?" 

"Or  a  mother?" 

"  I  have  a  mother;  but  I  haven't  seen  her  for  years*, 
and  I  don't  much  care  if  I  never  see  her.  It  was 
through  her  that  I  came  to  be  what  I  am." 

"  Are  you  then  dissatisfied  with  your  profession  ?  " 

"  No — I  don't  mean  that.  I  am  always  saying  stu- 
pid things." 

91 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 


a 


Yes.  That  comes  of  your  ignorance  of  a  sex  ac- 
customed to  have  its  silliness  respected.  You  will 
find  it  hard  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  my  friend 
without  some  further  study  of  womanly  ways." 

"  As  to  her,  I  won't  give  in  that  I'm  wrong  unless 
I  am  wrong.     The  truth's  the  truth." 

"  Not  even  to  please  Miss  Golf  ?  " 

"  Not  even  to  please  you.  You'd  only  think  the 
worse  of  me  afterwards." 

"  Quite  true,  and  quite  right,"  said  Lydia,  cor- 
dially. "Good-bye,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron.  I  must 
rejoin  Miss  Goff." 

"I  suppose  you  will  take  her  part  if  she  keeps  a 
down  on  me  for  what  I  said  to  her." 

"  What  is  '  a  down '  ?     A  grudge  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Something  of  that  sort." 

"  Colonial,  is  it  not  ?  "  pursued  Lydia,  with  the  air 
of  a  philologist. 

"Yes;  I  believe  I  picked  it  up  in  the  colonies." 
Then  he  added,  sullenly,  "  I  suppose  I  shouldn't  use 
slang  in  speaking  to  you.     I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  I  do  not  object  to  it.  On  the  contrary,  it  inter- 
ests me.  For  example,  I  have  just  learned  from  it 
that  you  have  been  in  Australia." 

"  So  I  have.  But  are  you  out  with  me  because  I 
annoyed  Miss  Goff?" 

"By  no  means.  Nevertheless,  I  sympathize  with 
her  annoyance  at  the  manner,  if  not  the  matter,  of 
your  rebuke." 

"  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  what  there  was  in 
what  I  said  to  raise  such  a  fuss  about.     I  wish  you 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

would  give  me  a  nudge  whenever  you  see  me  making 
a  fool  of  myself.  I  will  shut  up  at  once  aud  ask  no 
questions." 

"  So  that  it  will  be  understood  that  my  nudge 
means  'Shut  up,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron;  you  are  making 
a  fool  of  yourself '?  " 

"Just  so.  You  understand  me.  I  told  you  that 
before,  didn't  I  ?" 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Lydia,  her  face  bright  with 
laughter,  "  that  I  cannot  take  charge  of  your  man- 
ners until  we  are  a  little  better  acquainted." 

He  seemed  disappointed.  Then  his  face  clouded; 
and  he  began,  "  If  you  regard  it  as  a  liberty — " 

"  Of  course  I  regard  it  as  a  liberty,"  she  said,  neatly 
interrupting  him.  "Is  not  my  own  conduct  a  suffi- 
cient charge  upon  my  attention  ?  Why  should  I  vol- 
untarily assume  that  of  a  strong  man  and  learned 
professor  as  well  ?  " 

"  By  Jingo  ! "  exclaimed  Cashel,  with  sudden  ex- 
citement, "  I  don't  care  what  you  say  to  me.  You 
have  a  way  of  giving  things  a  turn  that  makes  it  a 
pleasure  to  be  shut  up  by  you;  and  if  I  were  a  gen- 
tleman, as  I  ought  to  be,  instead  of  a  poor  devil  of  a 
professional  pug,  I  would — "  He  recollected  himself, 
and  turned  quite  pale.     There  was  a  pause. 

"Let  me  remind  you,"  said  Lydia,  composedly, 
though  she  too  had  changed  color  at  the  beginning  of 
his  outburst,  "that  we  are  both  wanted  elsewhere  at 
present;  I  by  Miss  GofE,  and  you  by  your  servant,  who 
has  been  hovering  about  us  and  looking  at  you  anx- 
iously for  some  minutes." 

93 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Cashel  turned  fiercely,  and  saw  Mellish  standing  a 
little  way  off,  sulkily  watching  him.  Lydia  took  the 
opportunity,  and  left  the  place.  As  she  retreated  she 
could  hear  that  they  were  at  high  words  together;  but 
she  could  not  distinguish  what  they  were  saying. 
Fortunately  so;  for  their  language  was  villainous. 

She  found  Alice  in  the  library,  seated  bolt  upright 
in  a  chair  that  would  have  tempted  a  good-humored 
person  to  recline.  Lydia  sat  down  in  silence.  Alice, 
presently  looking  at  her,  discovered  that  she  was  in  a  fit 
of  noiseless  laughter.  The  effect,  in  contrast  to  her  ha- 
bitual self-possession,  was  so  strange  that  Alice  almost 
forgot  to  be  offended. 

"lam  glad  to  see  that  it  is  not  hard  to  amuse  you," 
she  said. 

Lydia  waited  to  recover  herself  thoroughly,  and 
then  replied,  "  I  have  not  laughed  so  three  times  in 
my  life.  Now,  Alice,  put  aside  your  resentment  of 
our  neighbor's  impudence  for  the  moment,  and  tell 
me  what  you  think  of  him." 

"  I  have  not  thought  about  him  at  all,  I  assure 
you,"  said  Alice,  disdainfully. 

"  Then  think  about  him  for  a  moment  to  oblige 
me,  and  let  me  know  the  result." 

"Keally,  you  have  had  much  more  opportunity  of 
judging  than  I.     /have  hardly  spoken  to  him." 

Lydia  rose  patiently  and  went  to  the  bookcase. 
"  You  have  a  cousin  at  one  of  the  universities,  have 
you  not  ?  "  she  said,  seeking  along  the  shelf  for  a  vol- 
ume. 

"Yes,"  replied  Alice,  speaking  very  sweetly  to 
94 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

atone  for  her  want  of  amiability  on  the  previous 
subject. 

"  Then  perhaps  you  know  something  of  university 
slang  ?" 

"I  never  allow  him  to  talk  slang  to  me,"  said 
Alice,  quickly. 

"  You  may  dictate  modes  of  expression  to  a  single 
man,  perhaps,  but  not  to  a  whole  university,"  said 
Lydia,  with  a  quiet  scorn  that  brought  unexpected 
tears  to  Alice's  eyes.    "  Do  you  know  what  a  pug  is  ?  " 

"A  pug!"  said  Alice,  vacantly.  "No;  I  have 
heard  of  a  bulldog — a  proctor's  bulldog,  but  never  a 
pug." 

"I  must  try  my  slang  dictionary,"  said  Lydia, 
taking  down  a  book  and  opening  it.  "  Here  it  is. 
1  Pug — a  fighting  man's  idea  of  the  contracted  word  to 
be  produced  from  pugilist.'  What  an  extraordinary 
definition  !  A  fighting  man's  idea  of  a  contraction  ! 
Why  should  a  man  have  a  special  idea  of  a  contrac- 
tion when  he  is  fighting;  or  why  should  he  think  of 
such  a  thing  at  all  under  such  circumstances  ?  Per- 
haps '  fighting  man '  is  slang  too.  No;  it  is  not  given 
here.  Either  I  mistook  the  word,  or  it  has  some  sig- 
nification unknown  to  the  compiler  of  my  dictionary." 

"It  seems  quite  plain  to  me,"  said  Alice.  "Pug 
means  pugilist." 

"  But  pugilism  is  boxing;  it  is  not  a  profession.  I 
suppose  all  men  are  more  or  less  pugilists.  I  want  a 
sense  of  the  word  in  which  it  denotes  a  calling  or  oc- 
cupation of  some  kind.  I  fancy  it  means  a  demon- 
strator of  anatomy.     However,  it  does  not  matter." 

95 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Where  did  you  meet  with  it  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Byron  used  it  just  now." 

"  Do  you  really  like  that  man  ?  "  said  Alice,  return- 
ing to  the  subject  more  humbly  than  she  had  quitted 
it. 

"  So  far,  I  do  not  dislike  him.  He  puzzles  me.  If 
the  roughness  of  his  manner  is  an  affectation  I  have 
never  seen  one  so  successful  before." 

"  Perhaps  he  does  not  know  any  better.  His  coarse- 
ness did  not  strike  me  as  being  affected  at  all." 

"I  should  agree  with  you  but  for  one  or  two  re- 
marks that  fell  from  him.  They  showed  an  insight 
into  the  real  nature  of  scientific  knowledge,  and  an 
instinctive  sense  of  the  truths  underlying  words, 
which  I  have  never  met  with  except  in  men  of  consid- 
erable culture  and  experience.  I  suspect  that  his 
manner  is  deliberately  assumed  in  protest  against  the 
selfish  vanity  which  is  the  common  source  of  social 
polish.  It  is  partly  natural,  no  doubt.  He  seems  too 
impatient  to  choose  his  words  needfully.  Do  you  ever 
go  to  the  theatre  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Alice,  taken  aback  by  this  apparent 
irrelevance.  "  My  father  disapproved  of  it.  But  I 
was  there  once.     I  saw  the  '  Lady  of  Lyons.'  " 

"  There  is  a  famous  actress,  Adelaide  Gisborne — " 

"  It  was  she  whom  I  saw  as  the  Lady  of  Lyons.  She 
did  it  beautifully." 

"  Did  Mr.  Byron  remind  you  of  her  ?  " 

Alice  stared  incredulously  at  Lydia.  "I  do  not 
think  there  can  be  two  people  in  the  world  less  like 
one  another,"  she  said. 

96 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Nor  do  I,"  said  Lydia,  meditatively.  "But  I 
think  their  dissimilarity  owes  its  emphasis  to  some 
lurking  likeness.  Otherwise  how  could  he  have  re- 
minded me  of  her?"  Lydia,  as  she  spoke,  sat  down 
with  a  troubled  expression,  as  if  trying  to  unravel  her 
thoughts.  "And  yet,"  she  added,  presently,  "my 
theatrical  associations  are  so  complex  that — "  A  long 
silence  ensued,  during  which  Alice,  conscious  of  some 
unusual  stir  in  her  patroness,  watched  her  furtively 
and  wondered  what  would  happen  next. 

"Alice." 

"Yes." 

"My  mind  is  exercising  itself  in  spite  of  me  on 
small  and  impertinent  matters — a  sure  symptom  of 
failing  mental  health.  My  presence  here  is  only  one 
of  several  attempts  that  I  have  made  to  live  idly  since 
my  father's  death.  They  have  all  failed.  Work  has 
become  necessary  to  me.  I  will  go  to  London  to- 
morrow." 

Alice  looked  up  in  dismay;  for  this  seemed  equiva- 
lent to  a  dismissal.  But  her  face  expressed  nothing 
but  polite  indifference. 

"  We  shall  have  time  to  run  through  all  the  follies 
of  the  season  before  June,  when  I  hope  to  return  here 
and  set  to  work  at  a  book  I  have  planned.  I  must 
collect  the  material  for  it  in  London.  If  I  leave  town 
before  the  season  is  over,  and  you  are  unwilling  to 
come  away  with  me,  I  can  easily  find  some  one  who 
will  take  care  of  you  as  long  as  you  please  to  stay.  I 
wish  it  were  June  already  !  " 

Alice  preferred  Lydia's  womanly  impatience  to  her 
7  97 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

fatalistic  cairn.  It  relieved  her  sense  of  inferiority, 
which  familiarity  had  increased  rather  than  dimin- 
ished. Yet  she  was  beginning  to  persuade  herself, 
with  some  success,  that  the  propriety  of  Lydia's  man- 
ners was  at  least  questionable.  That  morning  Miss 
Carew  had  not  scrupled  to  ask  a  man  what  his  pro- 
fession was;  and  this,  at  least,  Alice  congratulated 
herself  on  being  too  well-bred  to  do.  She  had  quite 
lost  her  awe  of  the  servants,  and  had  begun  to  address 
them  with  an  unconscious  haughtiness  and  a  conscious 
politeness  that  were  making  the  word  "  upstart  "  com- 
mon in  the  servants'  hall.  Bashville,  the  footman, 
had  risked  his  popularity  there  by  opining  that  Miss 
Goff  was  a  fine  young  woman. 

Bashville  was  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  and  stood 
five  feet  ten  in  his  stockings.  At  the  sign  of  the 
Green  Man  in  the  village  he  was  known  as  a  fluent 
orator  and  keen  political  debater.  In  the  stables  he 
was  deferred  to  as  an  authority  on  sporting  affairs, 
and  an  expert  wrestler  in  the  Cornish  fashion.  The 
women  servants  regarded  him  with  undissembled  ad- 
miration. They  vied  with  one  another  in  inventing 
expressions  of  delight  when  he  recited  before  them, 
which,  as  he  had  a  good  memory  and  was  fond  of 
poetry,  he  often  did.  They  were  proud  to  go  out 
walking  with  him.  But  his  attentions  never  gave  rise 
to  jealousy;  for  it  was  an  open  secret  in  the  servants' 
hall  that  he  loved  his  mistress.  He  had  never  said 
anything  to  that  effect,  and  no  one  dared  allude  to  it 
in  his  presence,  much  less  rally  him  on  his  weakness; 
but  his  passion  was  well  known  for  all  that,  and  it 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

seemed  by  no  means  so  hopeless  to  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  domestic  staff  as  it  did  to  the  cook,  the 
butler,  and  Bashville  himself.  Miss  Carew,  who  knew 
the  value  of  good  servants,  appreciated  her  footman's 
smartness,  and  paid  him  accordingly;  but  she  had  no 
suspicion  that  she  was  waited  ou  by  a  versatile  young 
student  of  poetry  and  public  affairs,  distinguished  for 
his  gallantry,  his  personal  prowess,  his  eloquence,  and 
his  influence  on  local  politics. 

It  was  Bashville  who  now  entered  the  library  with  a 
salver,  which  he  proffered  to  Alice,  saying,  "  The  gen- 
tleman is  waiting  in  the  round  drawing-room,  miss." 

Alice  took  the  gentleman's  card,  and  read,  "  Mr. 
Wallace  Parker." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said,  with  vexation,  glancing  at  Bash- 
ville as  if  to  divine  his  impression  of  the  visitor. 
"  My  cousin — the  one  we  were  speaking  of  just  now — 
has  come  to  see  me." 

"  How  fortunate  !  "  said  Lydia.  "  He  will  tell  me 
the  meaning  of  pug.     Ask  him  to  lunch  with  us." 

"  You  would  not  care  for  him,"  said  Alice.  "  He 
is  not  much  used  to  society.  I  suppose  I  had  better 
go  and  see  him." 

Miss  Carew  did  not  reply,  being  plainly  at  a  loss  to 
understand  how  there  could  be  any  doubt  about  the 
matter.  Alice  went  to  the  round  drawing-room, 
where  she  found  Mr.  Parker  examining  a  trophy  of 
Indian  armor,  and  presenting  a  back  view  of  a  short 
gentleman  in  a  spruce  blue  frock-coat.  A  new  hat 
and  pair  of  gloves  were  also  visible  as  he  stood  looking 
upward  with  his  hands  behind  him.     When  he  turned 

99 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

to  greet  Alice  he  displayed  a  face  expressive  of  resolute 
self-esteem,  with  eyes  whose  watery  brightness,  to- 
gether with  the  bareness  of  his  temples,  from  which 
the  hair  was  worn  away,  suggested  late  hours  and 
either  very  studious  or  very  dissipated  habits.  He 
advanced  confidently,  pressed  Alice's  hand  warmly  for 
several  seconds,  and  placed  a  chair  for  her,  without 
noticing  the  marked  coldness  with  which  she  received 
his  attentions. 

"I  was  surprised,  Alice,"  he  said,  when  he  had 
seated  himself  opposite  to  her,  "to  learn  from  Aunt 
Emily  that  you  had  come  to  live  here  without  consult- 
ing me.     I — " 

"  Consult  you  !  "  she  said,  contemptuously,  inter- 
rupting him.  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  Why 
should  I  consult  you  as  to  my  movements  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  not  have  used  the  word  consult, 
particularly  to  such  an  independent  little  lady  as  sweet 
Alice  Goff.  Still,  I  think  you  might — merely  as  a 
matter  of  form,  you  know — have  informed  me  of  the 
step  you  were  taking.  The  relations  that  exist  be- 
tween us  give  me  a  right  to  your  confidence." 

"  What  relations,  pray  ?  " 

"  What  relations  !  "  he  repeated,  with  reproachful 
emphasis. 

"Yes.     What  relations?" 

He  rose,  and  addressed  her  with  tender  solemnity. 
"Alice,"  he  began;  "I  have  proposed  to  you  at 
least  six  times — " 

"  And  have  I  accepted  you  once  ?  " 

"  Hear  me  to  the  end,  Alice.  I  know  that  you  have 
J00 


Cashel  Byron's  -Proifessiori-  {  ,'•  i ., 

never  explicitly  accepted  me;  but  it  has  always  been 
understood  that  my  needy  circumstances  were  the  only 
obstacle  to  our  happiness.  We — don't  interrupt  me, 
Alice;  you  little  know  what's  coming.  That  obsta- 
cle no  longer  exists.  I  have  been  made  second  master 
at  Sunbury  College,  with  three  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year,  a  house,  coals,  and  gas.  In  the  course 
of  time  I  shall  undoubtedly  succeed  to  the  head  master- 
ship— a  splendid  position,  worth  eight  hundred 
pounds  a  year.  You  are  now  free  from  the  troubles 
that  have  pressed  so  hard  upon  you  since  your  father's 
death;  and  you  can  quit  at  once — now — instantly, 
your  dependent  position  here." 

"Thank  you:  I  am  very  comfortable  here.  I  am 
staying  on  a  visit  with  Miss  Carew." 

Silence  ensued;  and  he  sat  down  slowly.  Then 
she  added,  "lam  exceedingly  glad  that  you  have  got 
something  good  at  last.  It  must  be  a  great  relief  to 
your  poor  mother." 

"I  fancied,  Alice — though  it  may  have  been  only 
fancy — I  fancied  that  your  mother  was  colder  than 
usual  in  her  manner  this  morning.  I  hope  that  the 
luxuries  of  this  palatial  mansion  are  powerless  to 
corrupt  your  heart.  I  cannot  lead  you  to  a  castle  and 
place  crowds  of  liveried  servants  at  your  beck  and 
call;  but  I  can  make  you  mistress  of  an  honorable 
English  home,  independent  of  the  bounty  of  strangers. 
You  can  never  be  more  than  a  lady,  Alice." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  lecture  me,  I  am  sure." 

"You  might  be  serious  with  me,"  he  said,  rising 
in  ill-humor,  and  walking  a  little  way  down  the  room. 

101 


Casftel  .Byron's  Profession 

"I  think  the  offer  of  a  man's  hand  ought  to  be  re- 
ceived with  respect." 

"  Oh  !  I  did  not  quite  understand.  I  thought  we 
agreed  that  you  are  not  to  make  me  that  offer  every 
time  we  meet." 

"It  was  equally  understood  that  the  subject  was 
only  deferred  until  I  should  be  in  a  position  to  resume 
it  without  binding  you  to  a  long  engagement.  That 
time  has  come  now;  and  I  expect  a  favorable  answer 
at  last.  I  am  entitled  to  one,  considering  how  pa- 
tiently I  have  waited  for  it." 

"  For  my  part,  Wallace,  I  must  say  I  do  not  think 
it  wise  for  you  to  think  of  marrying  with  only  three 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year." 

"With  a  house:  remember  that;  and  coals  and 
gas  !  You  are  becoming  very  prudent,  now  that  you 
live  with  Miss  Whatshername  here.  I  fear  you  no 
longer  love  me,  Alice." 

"  I  never  said  I  loved  you  at  any  time." 

"Pshaw!  You  never  said  so,  perhaps;  but  you 
always  gave  me  to  understand  that — " 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  Wallace;  and  I  won't 
have  you  say  so." 

"In  short,"  he  retorted,  bitterly,  "you  think  you 
will  pick  up  some  swell  here  who  will  be  a  better  bar- 
gain than  I  am." 

"  Wallace  !     How  dare  you  ?  " 

"  You  hurt  my  feelings,  Alice,  and  I  speak  out.  I 
know  how  to  behave  myself  quite  as  well  as  those  who 
have  the  entree  here;  but  when  my  entire  happiness 
is  at  stake  I  do  not  stand  on  punctilio.     Therefore,  I 

102 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

insist  on  a  straightforward  answer  to  my  fair,  honor- 
able proposal." 

"Wallace,"  said  Alice,  with  dignity;  "I  will  not 
be  forced  into  giving  an  answer  against  my  will.  I 
regard  you  as  a  cousin." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  regarded  as  a  cousin.  Have  I 
ever  regarded  you  as  a  cousin  ?  " 

"And  do  you  suppose,  Wallace,  that  I  should  per- 
mit you  to  call  me  by  my  Christian  name,  and  be  as 
familiar  as  we  have  always  been  together,  if  you  were 
not  my  cousin  ?  If  so,  you  must  have  a  very  strange 
opinion  of  me." 

"  I  did  not  think  that  luxury  could  so  corrupt — " 

"You  said  that  before,"  said  Alice,  pettishly. 
"Do  not  keep  repeating  the  same  thing  over  and 
over;  you  know  it  is  one  of  your  bad  habits.  Will 
you  stay  to  lunch  ?     Miss  Carew  told  me  to  ask  you." 

"  Indeed  !  Miss  Carew  is  very  kind.  Please  in- 
form her  that  I  am  deeply  honored,  and  that  I  feel 
quite  disturbed  at  being  unable  to  accept  her  patron- 
age." 

Alice  poised  her  head  disdainfully.  "  No  doubt  it 
amuses  you  to  make  yourself  ridiculous,"  she  said; 
"  but  I  must  say  I  do  not  see  any  occasion  for  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  my  behavior  is  not  sufficiently 
good  for  you.  You  never  found  any  cause  to  com- 
plain of  it  when  our  surroundings  were  less  aristocratic. 
I  am  quite  ashamed  of  taking  so  much  of  your  valu- 
able time.     6r00d-morning. " 

"  Good-morning.  But  I  do  not  see  why  you  are  in 
such  a  rage." 

103 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  am  not  in  a  rage.  I  am  only  grieved  to  find 
that  you  are  corrupted  by  luxury.  I  thought  your 
principles  were  higher.  Good-morning,  Miss  Goff. 
I  shall  not  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  in 
this  very  choice  mansion." 

"Are  you  really  going,  Wallace?"  said  Alice, 
rising. 

"Yes.     Why  should  I  stay  ?  '  ■ 

She  rang  the  bell,  greatly  disconcerting  him;  for  he 
had  expected  her  to  detain  him  and  make  advances 
for  a  reconciliation.  Before  they  could  exchange 
more  words,  Bashville  entered. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Alice,  politely. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  replied,  through  his  teeth.  He 
walked  loftily  out,  passing  Bashville  with  marked 
scorn. 

He  had  left  the  house,  and  was  descending  the  ter- 
race steps,  when  he  was  overtaken  by  the  footman, 
who  said,  civilly, 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir.  You've  forgotten  this,  I 
think."     And  he  handed  him  a  walking-stick. 

Parker's  first  idea  was  that  his  stick  had  attracted 
the  man's  attention  by  the  poor  figure  it  made  in  the 
castle  hall,  and  that  Bashville  was  requesting  him, 
with  covert  superciliousness,  to  remove  his  property. 
On  second  thoughts,  his  self-esteem  rejected  this  sus- 
picion as  too  humiliating;  but  he  resolved  to  show 
Bashville  that  he  had  a  gentleman  to  deal  with.  So  he 
took  the  stick,  and  instead  of  thanking  Bashville, 
handed  him  five  shillings. 

Bashville  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Oh,  no, 
104 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

sir,"  he  said,  "thank  you  all  the  same  !  Those  are 
not  my  views." 

"  The  more  fool  you,"  said  Parker,  pocketing  the 
coins,  and  turning  away. 

Bashville's  countenance  changed.  "Come,  come, 
sir,"  he  said,  following  Parker  to  the  foot  of  the 
steps,  "  fair  words  deserve  fair  words.  I  am  no  more 
a  fool  than  you  are.  A  gentleman  should  know  his 
place  as  well  as  a  servant." 

"Oh,  go  to  the  devil,"  muttered  Parker,  turning 
very  red  and  hurrying  away. 

"If  you  weren't  my  mistress's  guest,"  said  Bash- 
ville,  looking  menacingly  after  him,  "  I'd  send  you  to 
bed  for  a  week  for  sending  me  to  the  devil." 


m 


CHAPTER  V 

Miss  Caeew  remorselessly  carried  out  her  inten- 
tion of  going  to  London,  where  she  took  a  house  in 
Regent's  Park,  to  the  disappointment  of  Alice,  who 
had  hoped  to  live  in  Mayfair,  or  at  least  in  South 
Kensington.  But  Lydia  set  great  store  by  the  high 
northerly  ground  and  open  air  of  the  park ;  and  Alice 
found  almost  perfect  happiness  in  driving  through 
London  in  a  fine  carriage  and  fine  clothes.  She  liked 
that  better  than  concerts  of  classical  music,  which  she 
did  not  particularly  relish,  or  even  than  the  opera,  to 
which  they  went  often.  The  theatres  pleased  her  more, 
though  the  amusements  there  were  tamer  than  she  had 
expected.  Society  was  delightful  to  her  because  it 
was  real  London  society.  She  acquired  a  mania  for 
dancing;  went  out  every  night,  and  seemed  to  herself 
far  more  distinguished  and  attractive  than  she  had 
ever  been  in  Wiltstoken,  where  she  had  nevertheless 
held  a  sufficiently  favorable  opinion  of  her  own  man- 
ners and  person. 

Lydia  did  not  share  all  these  dissipations.  She 
easily  procured  invitations  and  chaperones  for  Alice, 
who  wondered  why  so  intelligent  a  woman  would  take 
the  trouble  to  sit  out  a  stupid  concert,  and  then  go 
home,  just  as  the  real  pleasure  of  the  evening  was 
beginning. 

106 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

One  Saturday  morning,  at  breakfast,  Lydia  said, 

"  Your  late  hours  begin  to  interfere  with  the  fresh- 
ness of  your  complexion,  Alice.  I  am  getting  a  little 
fatigued,  myself,  with  literary  work.  I  will  go  to  the 
Crystal  Palace  to-day,  and  wander  about  the  gardens 
for  a  while;  there  is  to  be  a  concert  in  the  afternoon 
for  the  benefit  of  Madame  Szczymplica,  whose  playing 
you  do  not  admire.    Will  you  come  with  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course/'  said  Alice,  resolutely  dutiful. 

"Of  choice;  not  of  course,"  said  Lydia.  "Are 
you  engaged  for  to-morrow  evening?" 

"Sunday?  Oh,  no.  Besides,  I  consider  all  my 
engagements  subject  to  your  convenience." 

There  was  a  pause,  long  enough  for  this  assurance 
to  fall  perfectly  flat.  Alice  bit  her  lip.  Then  Lydia 
said,  "  Do  you  know  Mrs.  Hoskyn  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Hoskyn  who  gives  Sunday  evenings?  Shall 
we  go  there?"  said  Alice,  eagerly.  "People  often 
ask  me  whether  I  have  been  at  one  of  them.  But  I 
don't  know  her — though  I  have  seen  her.  Is  she 
nice?" 

"  She  is  a  young  woman  who  has  read  a  great  deal 
of  art  criticism,  and  been  deeply  impressed  by  it.  She 
has  made  her  house  famous  by  bringing  there  all  the 
clever  people  she  meets,  and  making  them  so  comfort- 
able that  they  take  care  to  come  again.  But  she  has 
not,  fortunately  for  her,  allowed  her  craze  for  art  to 
get  the  better  of  her  common-sense.  She  married  a 
prosperous  man  of  business,  who  probably  never  read 
anything  but  a  newspaper  since  he  left  school;  and 
there  is  probably  not  a  happier  pair  in  England." 

107 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  I  presume  she  had  sense  enough  to  know  that  she 
could  not  afford  to  choose,"  said  Alice,  complacently. 
"  She  is  very  ugly." 

"Do  you  think  so?  She  has  many  admirers,  and 
was,  I  am  told,  engaged  to  Mr.  Herbert,  the  artist, 
before  she  met  Mr.  Hoskyn.  "We  shall  meet  Mr. 
Herbert  there  to-morrow,  and  a  number  of  celebrated 
persons  besides — his  wife,  Madame  Szczymplica  the 
pianiste,  Owen  Jack  the  composer,  Hav<kshaw  the 
poet,  Oonolly  the  inventor,  and  others.  The  occasion 
will  be  a  special  one,  as  Herr  Abendgasse,  a  remark- 
able German  socialist  and  art  critic,  is  to  deliver  a 
lecture  on  '  The  True  in  Art.'  Be  careful,  in  speaking 
of  him  in  society,  to  refer  to  him  as  a  sociologist,  and 
not  as  a  socialist.  Are  you  particularly  anxious  to 
hear  him  lecture  ?  " 

"  No  doubt  it  will  be  very  interesting,"  said  Alice. 
"  I  should  not  like  to  miss  the  opportunity  of  going 
to  Mrs.  Hoskyn's.  People  so  often  ask  me  whether  I 
have  been  there,  and  whether  I  know  this,  that,  and 
the  other  celebrated  person,  that  I  feel  quite  embar- 
rassed by  my  rustic  ignorance." 

"Because,"  pursued  Lydia,  "I  had  intended  not 
to  go  until  after  the  lecture.  Herr  Abendgasse  is  en- 
thusiastic and  eloquent,  but  not  original;  and  as  I 
have  imbibed  all  his  ideas  direct  from  their  inventors, 
I  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  listen  to  his  exposition  of 
them.     So  that,  unless  you  are  specially  interested — " 

"  Not  at  all.  If  he  is  a  socialist  I  should  much, 
rather  not  listen  to  him,  particularly  on  Sunday  even* 
ing." 

108 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

So  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  go  to  Mrs. 
Hoskyn's  after  the  lecture.  Meanwhile  they  went  to 
Sydenham,  where  Alice  went  through  the  Crystal  Pal- 
ace with  provincial  curiosity,  and  Lydia  answered  her 
questions  encyclopaedically.  In  the  afternoon  there 
was  a  concert,  at  which  a  band  played  several  long 
pieces  of  music,  which  Lydia  seemed  to  enjoy,  though 
she  found  fault  with  the  performers.  Alice,  able  to 
detect  neither  the  faults  in  the  execution  nor  the 
beauty  of  the  music,  did  as  she  saw  the  others  do — 
pretended  to  be  pleased  and  applauded  decorously. 
Madame  Szczymplica,  whom  she  expected  to  meet  at 
Mrs.  Hoskyn's,  appeared,  and  played  a  fantasia  for 
pianoforte  and  orchestra  by  the  famous  Jack,  another 
of  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  circle.  There  was  in  the  programme 
an  analysis  of  this  composition  from  which  Alice 
learned  that  by  attentively  listening  to  the  adagio 
she  could  hear  the  angels  singing  therein.  She 
listened  as  attentively  as  she  could,  but  heard  no 
angels,  and  was  astonished  when,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  fantasia,  the  audience  applauded  Madame 
Szczymplica  as  if  she  had  made  them  hear  the  music 
of  the  spheres.  Even  Lydia  seemed  moved,  and 
said, 

"  Strange,  that  she  is  only  a  woman  like  the  rest  of 
us,  with  just  the  same  narrow  bounds  to  her  exist- 
ence, and  just  the  same  prosaic  cares — that  she  will 
go  by  train  to  Victoria,  and  from  thence  home  in 
a  common  vehicle  instead  of  embarking  in  a  great 
shell  and  being  drawn  by  swans  to  some  enchanted 
island.     Her  playing  reminds  me  of  myself  as  I  was 

109 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

when  I  believed  in  fairyland,  and  indeed  knew  little 
about  any  other  land." 

"They  say,"  said  Alice,  "that  her  husband  is  very 
jealous,  and  that  she  leads  him  a  terrible  life." 

"  They  say  anything  that  brings  gifted  people  to 
the  level  of  their  own  experience.  Doubtless  they  are 
right.  I  have  not  met  Mr.  Herbert,  but  I  have  seen 
his  pictures,  which  suggest  that  he  reads  everything 
and  sees  nothing;  for  they  all  represent  scenes  de- 
scribed in  some  poem.  If  one  could  only  find  an  edu- 
cated man  who  had  never  read  a  book,  what  a  delight- 
ful companion  he  would  be  !  " 

When  the  concert  was  over  they  did  not  return 
directly  to  town,  as  Lydia  wished  to  walk  awhile  in 
the  gardens.  In  consequence,  when  they  left  Syden- 
ham, they  got  into  a  Waterloo  train,  and  so  had  to 
change  at  Clapham  Junction.  It  was  a  fine  summer 
evening,  and  Alice,  though  she  thought  that  it  became 
ladies  to  hide  themselves  from  the  public  in  waiting- 
rooms  at  railway  stations,  did  not  attempt  to  dissuade 
Lydia  from  walking  to  and  fro  at  an  unfrequented  end 
of  the  platform,  which  terminated  in  a  bank  covered 
with  flowers. 

"  To  my  mind,"  said  Lydia,  "Clapham  Junction  is 
one  of  the  prettiest  places  about  London." 

"Indeed!"  said  Alice,  a  little  maliciously.  "I 
thought  that  all  artistic  people  looked  on  junctions 
and  railway  lines  as  blots  on  the  landscape." 

"  Some  of  them  do,"  said  Lydia ;  "  but  they  are  not 
the  artists  of  our  generation ;  and  those  who  take  up 
their  cry  are  no  better  than  parrots.     If  every  holiday 

110 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

recollection  of  my  youth,  every  escape  from  town  to 
country,  be  associated  with  the  railway,  I  must  feel 
towards  it  otherwise  than  did  my  father,  upon  whose 
middle  age  it  came  as  a  monstrous  iron  innovation. 
The  locomotive  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  modern 
childhood.  Children  crowd  upon  a  bridge  to  see  the 
train  pass  beneath.  Little  boys  strut  along  the  streets 
puffing  and  whistling  in  imitation  of  the  engine.  All 
that  romance,  silly  as  it  looks,  becomes  sacred  in  after- 
life. Besides,  when  it  is  not  underground  in  a  foul 
London  tunnel,  a  train  is  a  beautiful  thing.  Its  pure, 
white  fleece  of  steam  harmonizes  with  every  variety  of 
landscape.  And  its  sound  !  Have  you  ever  stood  on 
a  sea-coast  skirted  by  a  railway,  and  listened  as  the 
train  came  into  hearing  in  the  far  distance  ?  At  first 
it  can  hardly  be  distinguished  from  the  noise  of  the  sea; 
then  you  recognize  it  by  its  vibration;  one  moment 
smothered  in  a  deep  cutting,  and  the  next  sent  echo- 
ing from  some  hillside.  Sometimes  it  runs  smoothly 
for  many  minutes,  and  then  breaks  suddenly  into  a 
rhythmic  clatter,  always  changing  in  distance  and 
intensity.  When  it  comes  near,  you  should  get  into  a 
tunnel,  and  stand  there  while  it  passes.  I  did  that 
once,  and  it  was  like  the  last  page  of  an  overture  by 
Beethoven — thunderingly  impetuous.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive how  any  person  can  hope  to  disparage  a  train  by 
comparing  it  with  a  stage-coach ;  and  I  know  something 
of  stage-coaches — or,  at  least,  of  diligences.  Their 
effect  on  the  men  employed  about  them  ought  to  decide 
the  superiority  of  steam  without  further  argument.  I 
have  never  observed  an  engine-driver  who  did  not 

111 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

seem  an  exceptionally  intelligent  mechanic,  while  the 
very  writers  and  artists  who  have  preserved  the  mem- 
ory of  the  coaching  days  for  us  do  not  appear  to  have 
taken  coachmen  seriously,  or  to  have  regarded  them 
as  responsible  and  civilized  men.  Abuse  of  the  rail- 
way from  a  pastoral  point  of  view  is  obsolete.  There 
are  millions  of  grown  persons  in  England  to  whom  the 
far  sound  of  the  train  is  as  pleasantly  suggestive  as  the 
piping  of  a  blackbird.  Again — is  not  that  Lord  Worth- 
ington  getting  out  of  the  train  ?  Yes,  that  one,  at 
the  third  platform  from  this.  He — "  She  stopped. 
Alice  looked,  but  could  see  neither  Lord  Worthington 
nor  the  cause  of  a  subtle  but  perceptible  change  in 
Lydia,  who  said,  quickly, 

"  He  is  probably  coming  to  our  train.  Come  to  the 
waiting-room."  She  walked  swiftly  along  the  plat- 
form as  she  spoke.  Alice  hurried  after  her;  and  they 
had  but  just  got  into  the  room,  the  door  of  which  was 
close  to  the  staircase  which  gave  access  to  the  plat- 
form, when  a  coarse  din  of  men's  voices  showed  that  a 
noisy  party  were  ascending  the  steps.  Presently  a  man 
emerged  reeling,  and  at  once  began  to  execute  a 
drunken  dance,  and  to  sing  as  well  as  his  condition 
and  musical  faculty  allowed.  Lydia  stood  near  the 
window  of  the  room  and  watched  in  silence.  Alice, 
following  her  example,  recognized  the  drunken  dancer 
as  Mellish.  He  was  followed  by  three  men  gayly 
attired  and  highly  elated,  but  comparatively  sober. 
After  them  came  Cashel  Byron,  showily  dressed  in  a 
velveteen  coat,  and  tightly-fitting  fawn-colored  panta- 
loons that  displayed  the  muscles  of  his  legs.     He  also 

112 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

seemed  quite  sober;  but  he  was  dishevelled,  and  his 
left  eye  blinked  frequently,  the  adjacent  brow  and  cheek 
being  much  yellower  than  his  natural  complexion, 
which  appeared  to  advantage  on  the  right  side  of  his 
face.  Walking  steadily  to  Mellish,  who  was  now  ask- 
ing each  of  the  bystanders  in  turn  to  come  and  drink 
at  his  expense,  he  seized  him  by  the  collar  and  sternly 
bade  him  cease  making  a  fool  of  himself.  Mellish 
tried  to  embrace  him. 

"  My  own  boy,"  he  exclaimed,  affectionately.  "  He's 
my  little  nonpareil.  Cashel  Byron  again'  the  world 
at  catch  weight.     Bob  Mellish's  money — " 

"  You  sot,"  said  Cashel,  rolling  him  about  until  he 
was  giddy  as  well  as  drunk,  and  then  forcing  him  to 
sit  down  on  a  bench;  "one  would  think  you  never 
saw  a  mill  or  won  a  bet  in  your  life  before." 

"  Steady,  Byron,"  said  one  of  the  others.  "  Here's 
his  lordship."  Lord  Worthington  was  coming  up  the 
stairs,  apparently  the  most  excited  of  the  party. 

"  Fine  man  ! "  he  cried,  patting  Cashel  on  the 
shoulder.  ■"  Splendid  man  !  You  have  won  a  mon- 
key for  me  to-day;  and  you  shall  have  your  share  of 
it; old  boy." 
^  "I  trained  him,"  said  Mellish,  staggering  forward 
again.  "I  trained  him.  You  know  me,  my  lord. 
You  know  Bob  Mellish.  A  word  with  your  lordship 
in  c — confidence.  You  ask  who  knows  how  to  make 
the  beef  go  and  the  muscle  come.  You  ask — I 
ask  your  lordship's  pard'n.  What'll  your  lordship 
take?" 

"  Take  care,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  "  exclaimed  Lord 
8  113 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Worthington,  clutching  at  him  as  he  reeled  backward 
towards  the  line.     "  Don't  you  see  the  train  ?  " 

"  /  know,"  said  Mellish,  gravely.  "lam  all  right; 
no  man  more  so.     I  am  Bob  Mellish.     You  ask — " 

"  Here.  Come  out  of  this/'  said  one  of  the  party, 
a  powerful  man  with  a  scarred  face  and  crushed  nose, 
grasping  Mellish  and  thrusting  him  into  the  train. 
"  Y'll  'ave  to  clap  a  beefsteak  on  that  ogle  of  yours, 
where  you  napped  the  Dutchman's  auctioneer,  Byron. 
It's  got  more  yellow  paint  on  it  than  y'll  like  to  show 
in  church  to-morrow." 

At  this  they  all  gave  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  entered 
a  third-class  carriage.  Lydia  and  Alice  had  but  just 
time  to  take  their  places  in  the  train  before  it  started. 

"Keally,  I  must  say,"  said  Alice,  "  that  if  those 
were  Mr.  Cashel  Byron's  and  Lord  Worthington's 
associates,  their  tastes  are  very  peculiar." 

"Yes,"  said  Lydia,  almost  grimly.  "I  am  a  fair 
linguist;  but  I  did  not  understand  a  single  sentence 
of  their  conversation,  though  I  heard  it  all  distinctly." 

"They  were  not  gentlemen,"  said  Alice.  "You 
say  that  no  one  can  tell  by  a  person's  appearance 
whether  he  is  a  gentleman  or  not;  but  surely  you  can- 
not think  that  those  men  are  Lord  Worthington's 
equals." 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Lydia.  "  They  are  ruffians;  and 
Cashel  Byron  is  the  most  unmistakable  ruffian  of 
them  all." 

Alice,  awestruck,  did  not  venture  to  speak  again 
until  they  left  the  train  at  Victoria.  There  was  a 
crowd  outside  the  carriage  in  which  Cashel  had  trav- 

114 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

elled.  They  hastened  past;  but  Lydia  asked  a  guard 
whether  anything  was  the  matter.  He  replied  that 
a  drunken  man,  alighting  from  the  train,  had  fallen 
down  upon  the  rails,  and  that,  had  the  carriage  been 
in  motion,  he  would  have  been  killed.  Lydia  thanked 
her  informant,  and,  as  she  turned  from  him,  found 
Bashville  standing  before  her,  touching  his  hat.  She 
had  given  him  no  instructions  to  attend.  However, 
she  accepted  his  presence  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
inquired  whether  the  carriage  was  there. 

"No,  madam,"  replied  Bashville.  "The  coach- 
man had  no  orders." 

"  Quite  right.  A  hansom,  if  you  please."  When 
he  was  gone  she  said  to  Alice,  "  Did  you  tell  Bashville 
to  meet  us  ?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  Alice.  "  I  should  not  think 
of  doing  such  a  thing." 

"  Strange  !  However,  he  knows  his  duties  better 
than  I  do;  so  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  has  acted  prop- 
erly. He  has  been  waiting  all  the  afternoon,  I  sup- 
pose, poor  fellow." 

"  He  has  nothing  else  to  do,"  said  Alice,  carelessly. 
"  Here  he  is.  He  has  picked  out  a  capital  horse  for 
us,  too." 

Meanwhile,  Mellish  had  been  dragged  from  beneath 
the  train  and  seated  on  the  knee  of  one  of  his  compan- 
ions. He  was  in  a  stupor,  and  had  a  large  lump  on 
his  brow.  His  eye  was  almost  closed.  The  man  with 
the  crushed  nose  now  showed  himself  an  expert  sur- 
geon. While  Cashel  supported  the  patient  on  the  knee 
of  another  man,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  kept  off  the 

115 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

crowd  by  mingled  persuasion  and  violence,  he  pro- 
duced a  lancet  and  summarily  reduced  the  swelling  by 
lancing  it.  He  then  dressed  the  puncture  neatly  with 
appliances  for  that  purpose  which  he  carried  about 
him,  and  shouted  in  Mellish's  ear  to  rouse  him.  But 
the  trainer  only  groaned,  and  let  his  head  drop  inert 
on  his  breast.  More  shouting  was  resorted  to,  but  in 
vain.  Cashel  impatiently  expressed  an  opinion  that 
Mellish  was  shamming,  and  declared  that  he  would 
not  stand  there  to  be  fooled  with  all  the  evening. 

"If  he  was  my  pal  'stead  o'  yours,"  said  the  man 
with  the  broken  nose,  "  I'd  wake  him  up  fast  enough." 

"I'll  save  you  the  trouble,"  said  Cashel,  coolly 
stooping  and  seizing  between  his  teeth  the  cartilage 
of  the  trainer's  ear. 

"  That's  the  way  to  do  it,"  said  the  other,  approv- 
ingly, as  Mellish  screamed  and  started  to  his  feet. 
"  Now,  then.     Up  with  you." 

He  took  Mellish's  right  arm,  Cashel  took  the  left, 
and  they  brought  him  away  between  them  without 
paying  the  least  heed  to  his  tears,  his  protestations 
that  he  was  hurt,  his  plea  that  he  was  an  old  man,  or 
his  bitter  demand  as  to  where  Cashel  would  have  been 
at  that  moment  without  his  care. 

Lord  Worthington  had  taken  advantage  of  this 
accident  to  slip  away  from  his  travelling  companions 
and  drive  alone  to  his  lodgings  in  Jermyn  Street.  He 
was  still  greatly  excited;  and  when  his  valet,  an  old 
retainer  with  whom  he  was  on  familiar  terms,  brought 
him  a  letter  that  had  arrived  during  his  absence,  he 
asked  him  four  times  whether  any  one  had  called,  and 

116 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

four  times  interrupted  him  by  scraps  of  information 
about  the  splendid  day  he  had  had  and  the  luck  he 
was  in. 

"  I  bet  five  hundred  even  that  it  would  be  over  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour;  and  then  I  bet  Byron  two  hundred 
and  fifty  to  one  that  it  wouldn't.  That's  the  way  to 
do  it;  eh,  Bedford?  Catch  Cashel  letting  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  slip  through  his  fingers  !  By  George, 
though,  he's  an  artful  card.  At  the  end  of  fourteen 
minutes  I  thought  my  five  hundred  was  corpsed.  The 
Dutchman  was  full  of  fight;  and  Cashel  suddenly 
turned  weak  and  tried  to  back  out  of  the  rally.  You 
should  have  seen  the  gleam  in  the  Dutchman's  eye 
when  he  rushed  in  after  him.  He  made  cock-sure 
of  finishing  him  straight  off." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord.     Dear  me  !  " 

"I  should  think  so:  I  was  taken  in  by  it  myself. 
It  was  only  done  to  draw  the  poor  devil.  By  George, 
Bedford,  you  should  have  seen  the  way  Cashel  put  in 
his  right.  But  you  couldn't  have  seen  it ;  it  was  too 
quick.  The  Dutchman  was  asleep  on  the  grass  before 
he  knew  he'd  been  hit.  Byron  had  collected  fifteen 
pounds  for  him  before  he  came  to.  His  jaw  must  feel 
devilish  queer  after  it.  By  Jove,  Bedford,  Cashel  is  a 
perfect  wonder.  I'd  back  him  for  every  cent  I  possess 
against  any  man  alive.  He  makes  you  feel  proud  of 
being  an  Englishman." 

Bedford  looked  on  with  submissive  wonder  as  his 
master,  transfigured  with  enthusiasm,  went  hastily  to 
and  fro  through  the  room,  occasionally  clinching  his 
fist  and  smiting  an  imaginary  Dutchman.     The  valet 

117 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

at  last  ventured  to  remind  him  that  he  had  forgotten 
the  letter. 

"  Oh,  hang  the  letter  !  "  said  Lord  Worthington. 
"  It's  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  writing — an  invitation,  or  some 
such  rot.     Here;  let's  see  it." 

"  Oampden  Hill  Road,  Saturday. 
"  My  dear  Lord  Worthington, — I  have  not  forgotten 
my  promise  to  obtain  for  you  a  near  view  of  the  fa- 
mous Mrs.  Herbert — '  Madame  Simplicita,'  as  you  call 
her.  She  will  be  with  us  to-morrow  evening;  and  we 
shall  be  very  happy  to  see  you  then,  if  you  care  to  come. 
At  nine  o'clock,  Herr  Abendgasse,  a  celebrated  Ger- 
man art  critic  and  a  great  friend  of  mine,  will  read  us 
a  paper  on  '  The  True  in  Art ' ;  but  I  will  not  pay  you 
the  compliment  of  pretending  to  believe  that  that  in- 
terests you,  so  you  may  come  at  ten  or  half -past,  by 
which  hour  all  the  serious  business  of  the  evening  will 
be  over." 

"Well,  there  is  nothing  like  cheek,"  said  Lord 
Worthington,  breaking  off  in  his  perusal.  "These 
women  think  that  because  I  enjoy  life  in  a  rational 
way  I  don't  know  the  back  of  a  picture  from  the  front, 
or  the  inside  of  a  book  from  the  cover.  I  shall  go  at 
nine  sharp." 

"  If  any  of  your  acquaintances  take  an  interest  in 
art,  I  will  gladly  make  them  welcome.  Could  you  not 
bring  me  a  celebrity  or  two?  I  am  very  anxious  to 
have  as  good  an  audience  as  possible  for  Herr  Abend- 

118 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

gasse.  However,  as  it  is,  he  shall  have  no  reason  to 
complain,  as  I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  already  se- 
cured a  very  distinguished  assembly.  Still,  if  you  can 
add  a  second  illustrious  name  to  my  list,  by  all  means 
do  so." 

"Very  good,  Mrs.  Hoskyn,"  said  Lord  Worthing- 
ton,  looking  cunningly  at  the  bewildered  Bedford. 
"  You  shall  have  a  celebrity — a  real  one — none  of  your 
mouldy  old  Germans — if  I  can  only  get  him  to  come. 
If  any  of  her  people  don't  like  him  they  can  tell  him 
so.     Eh,  Bedford?" 


in 


CHAPTER  VI 

Next  evening,  Lydia  and  Alice  reached  Mrs.  Hos- 
kyn's  house  in  Campden  Hill  Road  a  few  minutes 
before  ten  o'clock.  They  found  Lord  Worthington  in 
the  front  garden,  smoking  and  chatting  with  Mr. 
Hoskyn.  He  threw  away  his  cigar  and  returned  to 
the  house  with  the  two  ladies,  who  observed  that  he 
was  somewhat  flushed  with  wine.  They  went  into  a 
parlor  to  take  off  their  wraps,  leaving  him  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  Presently  they  heard  some  one  come 
down  and  address  him  excitedly  thus, 

"  Worthington.  Worthington.  He  has  begun 
making  a  speech  before  the  whole  room.  He  got  up 
the  moment  old  Abendgasse  sat  down.  Why  the  deuce 
did  you  give  him  that  glass  of  champagne  ?  " 

"Sh-sh-sh!  You  don't  say  so  !  Come  with  me; 
and  let  us  try  to  get  him  away  quietly." 

"Did  you  hear  that?"  said  Alice.  "Something 
must  have  happened." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Lydia.  "Ordinarily,  the  fault 
in  these  receptions  is  that  nothing  happens.  Do  not 
announce  us,  if  you  please,"  she  added  to  the  servant, 
as  they  ascended  the  stairs.  "Since  we  have  come 
late,  let  us  spare  the  feelings  of  Herr  Abendgasse  by 
going  in  as  quietly  as  possible." 

They  had  no  difficulty  in  entering  unnoticed,  for 
120 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Mrs.  Hoskyn  considered  obscurity  beautiful ;  and  her 
rooms  were  but  dimly  lighted  by  two  curious  lanterns 
of  pink  glass,  within  which  were  vaporous  flames. 
In  the  middle  of  the  larger  apartment  was  a  small 
table  covered  with  garnet-colored  plush,  with  a  read- 
ing-desk upon  it,  and  two  candles  in  silver  candle- 
sticks, the  light  of  which,  being  brighter  than  the 
lanterns,  cast  strong  double  shadows  from  a  group  of 
standing  figures  about  the  table.  The  surrounding 
space  was  crowded  with  chairs,  occupied  chiefly  by 
ladies.  Behind  them,  along  the  wall,  stood  a  row  of 
men,  among  whom  was  Lucian  Webber.  All  were 
staring  at  Cashel  Byron,  who  was  making  a  speech  to 
some  bearded  and  spectacled  gentlemen  at  the  table. 
Lydia,  who  had  never  before  seen  him  either  in  even- 
ing dress  or  quite  at  his  ease,  was  astonished  at  his 
bearing.  His  eyes  were  sparkling,  his  confidence  over- 
bore the  company,  and  his  rough  voice  created  the 
silence  it  broke.  He  was  in  high  good-humor,  and 
marked  his  periods  by  the  swing  of  his  extended  left 
arm,  while  he  held  his  right  Jiand  close  to  his  body 
and  occasionally  pointed  his  remarks  by  slyly  wagging 
his  forefinger. 

" — executive  power,"  he  was  saying  as  Lydia  en- 
tered. "That's  a  very  good  expression,  gentlemen, 
and  one  that  I  can  tell  you  a  lot  about.  We  have  been 
told  that  if  we  want  to  civilize  our  neighbors  we  must 
do  it  mainly  by  the  example  of  our  own  lives,  by  each  be- 
coming a  living  illustration  of  the  highest  culture  we 
know.  But  what  I  ask  is,  how  is  anybody  to  know 
that  you're  an  illustration  of  culture.      You  can't  go 

121 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

about  like  a  sandwich  man  with  a  label  on  your  back 
to  tell  all  the  fine  notions  you  have  in  your  head ;  and 
you  may  be  sure  no  person  will  consider  your  mere  ap- 
pearance preferable  to  his  own.  You  want  an  execu- 
tive power;  that's  what  you  want.  Suppose  you 
walked  along  the  street  and  saw  a  man  beating  a  wo- 
man, and  setting  a  bad  example  to  the  roughs.  Well, 
you  would  be  bound  to  set  a  good  example  to  them ; 
and,  if  you're  men,  you'd  like  to  save  the  woman;  but 
you  couldn't  do  it  by  merely  living;  for  that  would 
be  setting  the  bad  example  of  passing  on  and  leaving 
the  poor  creature  to  be  beaten.  What  is  it  that  you 
need  to  know  then,  in  order  to  act  up  to  your  fine 
ideas?  Why,  you  want  to  know  how  to  hit  him, 
when  to  hit  him,  and  where  to  hit  him;  and  then  you 
want  the  nerve  to  go  in  and  do  it.  That's  executive 
power;  and  that's  what's  wanted  worse  than  sitting 
down  and  thinking  how  good  you  are,  which  is  what 
this  gentleman's  teaching  comes  to  after  all.  Don't 
you  see?  You  want  executive  power  to  set  an  exam- 
ple. If  you  leave  all  that  to  the  roughs,  it's  their 
example  that  will  spread,  and  not  yours.  And  look 
at  the  politics  of  it.  We've  heard  a  good  deal  about 
the  French  to-night.  Well,  they've  got  executive 
power.  They  know  how  to  make  a  barricade,  and 
how  to  fight  behind  it  when  they've  made  it.  What's 
the  result?  Why,  the  French,  if  they  only  knew 
what  they  wanted,  could  have  it  to-morrow  for  the 
asking — more's  the  pity  that  they  don't  know.  In 
this  country  we  can  do  nothing;  and  if  the  lords  and 
the  landlords,  or  any  other  collection  of  nobs,  were  to 

122 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

drive  us  into  the  sea,  what  could  we  do  but  go? 
There's  a  gentleman  laughing  at  me  for  saying  that; 
but  I  ask  him  what  would  he  do  if  the  police  or  the 
soldiers  came  this  evening  and  told  him  to  turn  out 
of  his  comfortable  house  into  the  Thames  ?  Tell  'em 
he  wouldn't  vote  for  their  employers  at  the  next  elec- 
tion, perhaps  ?  Or,  if  that  didn't  stop  them,  tell  'em 
that  he'd  ask  his  friends  to  do  "the  same?  That's  a 
pretty  executive  power  !  No,  gentlemen.  Don't  let 
yourself  be  deceived  by  people  that  have  staked  their 
money  against  you.  The  first  thing  to  learn  is  how 
to  fight.  There's  no  use  in  buying  books  and  pictures 
unless  you  know  how  to  keep  them  and  your  own  head 
as  well.  If  that  gentleman  that  laughed  knew  how 
to  fight,  and  his  neighbors  all  knew  how  to  fight  too, 
he  wouldn't  need  to  fear  police,  nor  soldiers,  nor 
Eussians,  nor  Prussians,  nor  any  of  the  millions  of 
men  that  may  be  let  loose  on  him  any  day  of  the 
week,  safe  though  he  thinks  himself.  But,  says  you, 
let's  have  a  division  of  labor.  Let's  not  fight  for  our- 
selves, but  pay  other  men  to  fight  for  us.  That  shows 
how  some  people,  when  they  get  hold  of  an  idea,  will 
work  it  to  that  foolish  length  that  it's  wearisome  to 
listen  to  them.  Fighting  is  the  power  of  self-preserva- 
tion; another  man  can't  do  it  for  you.  You  might  as 
well  divide  the  labor  of  eating  your  dinner,  and  pay 
one  fellow  to  take  the  beef,  another  the  beer,  and  a 
third  the  potatoes.  But  let  us  put  it  for  the  sake  of 
argument  that  you  do  pay  others  to  fight  for  you. 
Suppose  some  one  else  pays  them  higher,  and  they  fight 
a  cross,  or  turn  openly  against  you  !    You'd  have  only 

123 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

yourself  to  blame  for  giving  the  executive  power  to 
money.  And  so  long  as  the  executive  power  is  money 
the  poor  will  be  kept  out  of  their  corner  and  fouled 
against  the  ropes;  whereas,  by  what  I  understand,  the 
German  professor  wants  them  to  have  their  rights. 
Therefore  I  say  that  a  man's  first  duty  is  to  learn  to 
fight.  If  he  can't  do  that  he  can't  set  an  example;  he 
can't  stand  up  for  his  own  rights  or  his  neighbors';  he 
can't  keep  himself  in  bodily  health;  and  if  he  sees  the 
weak  ill-used  by  the  strong,  the  most  he  can  do  is  to 
sneak  away  and  tell  the  nearest  policeman,  who  most 
likely  won't  turn  up  until  the  worst  of  the  mischief  is 
done.  Coming  to  this  lady's  drawing-room,  and  mak- 
ing an  illustration  of  himself,  won't  make  him  feel  like 
a  man  after  that.  Let  me  be  understood,  though,  gen- 
tlemen :  I  don't  intend  that  you  should  take  everything 
I  say  too  exactly — too  literally,  as  it  were.  If  you  see 
a  man  beating  a  woman,  I  think  you  should  interfere 
on  principle.  But  don't  expect  to  be  thanked  by  her 
for  it;  and  keep  your  eye  on  her;  don't  let  her  get  be- 
hind you.  As  for  him,  just  give  him  a  good  one  and 
go  away.  Never  stay  to  get  yourself  into  a  street 
fight;  for  it's  low,  and  generally  turns  out  badly  for 
all  parties.  However,  that's  only  a  bit  of  practical 
advice.  It  doesn't  alter  the  great  principle  that  you 
should  get  an  executive  power.  When  you  get  that, 
you'll  have  courage  in  you;  and,  what's  more,  your 
courage  will  be  of  some  use  to  you.  For  though  you 
may  have  courage  by  nature,  still,  if  you  haven't  exec- 
utive power  as  well,  your  courage  will  only  lead  you 
to  stand  up  to  be  beaten  by  men  that  have  both  cour- 

124 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

age  and  executive  power;  and  what  good  does  that  do 
you  ?  People  Bay  that  you're  a  game  fellow;  but  they 
won't  find  the  stakes  for  you  unless  you  can  win 
them.  You'd  far  better  put  your  game  in  your  pocket, 
and  throw  up  the  sponge  while  you  can  see  to  do  it. 

"Now,  on  this  subject  of  game,  I've  something  to 
say  that  will  ease  the  professor's  mind  on  a  point  that 
he  seemed  anxious  about.  I  am  no  musician;  but  I'll 
just  show  you  how  a  man  that  understands  one  art 
understands  every  art.  I  made  out  from  the  gentle- 
man's remarks  that  there  is  a  man  in  the  musical  line 
named  Wagner,  who  is  what  you  might  call  a  game 
sort  of  composer;  and  that  the  musical  fancy,  though 
they  can't  deny  that  his  tunes  are  first-rate,  and  that, 
so  to  speak,  he  wins  his  fights,  yet  they  try  to  make 
out  that  he  wins  them  in  an  outlandish  way,  and  that 
he  has  no  real  science.  Now  I  tell  the  gentleman  not 
to  mind  such  talk.  As  I  have  just  shown  yon,  his 
game  wouldn't  be  any  use  to  him  without  science. 
He  might  have  beaten  a  few  second-raters  with  a  rush 
while  he  was  young;  but  he  wouldn't  have  lasted  out 
as  he  has  done  unless  he  was  clever  as  well.  You  will 
find  that  those  that  run  him  down  are  either  jealous, 
or  they  are  old  stagers  that  are  not  used  to  his  style, 
and  think  that  anything  new  must  be  bad.  Just  wait 
a  bit,  and,  take  my  word  for  it,  they'll  turn  right 
round  and  swear  that  his  style  isn't  new  at  all,  and 
that  he  stole  it  from  some  one  they  saw  when  they 
were  ten  years  old.  History  shows  us  that  that  is  the 
way  of  such  fellows  in  all  ages,  as  the  gentleman  said; 
and  he  gave  you  Beethoven  as  an  example.     But  an 

125 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

example  like  that  don't  go  home  to  you,  because  there 
isn't  one  man  in  a  million  that  ever  heard  of  Bee- 
thoven. Take  a  man  that  everybody  has  heard  of — 
Jack  Eandall  !  The  very  same  things  were  said  of 
Mm.  After  that,  you  needn't  go  to  musicians  for  an 
example.  The  truth  is,  that  there  are  people  in  the 
world  with  that  degree  of  envy  and  malice  in  them 
that  they  can't  bear  to  allow  a  good  man  his  merits; 
and  when  they  have  to  admit  that  he  can  do  one  thing, 
they  try  to  make  out  that  there's  something  else  he 
can't  do.  Come:  I'll  put  it  to  you  short  and  busi- 
ness-like. This  German  gentleman,  who  knows  all 
about  music,  tells  you  that  many  pretend  that  this 
Wagner  has  game  but  no  science.  Well,  I,  though  I 
know  nothing  about  music,  will  bet  you  twenty-five 
pounds  that  there's  others  that  allow  him  to  be  full 
of  science,  but  say  that  he  has  no  game,  and  that  all 
he  does  comes  from  his  head,  and  not  from  his  heart. 
I  will.  I'll  bet  twenty-five  pounds  on  it,  and  let  the 
gentleman  of  the  house  be  stakeholder,  and  the  Ger- 
man gentleman  referee.  Eh  ?  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see 
that  there  are  no  takers. 

"  Now  we'll  go  to  another  little  point  that  the  gen- 
tleman forgot.  He  recommended  you  to  learn — to 
make  yourselves  better  and  wiser  from  day  to  day. 
But  he  didn't  tell  you  why  it  is  that  you  won't  learn, 
in  spite  of  his  advice.  I  suppose  that,  being  a  for- 
eigner, he  was  afraid  of  hurting  your  feelings  by  talk- 
ing too  freely  to  you.  But  you're  not  so  thin-skinned 
as  to  take  offence  at  a  little  plain-speaking,  I'll  be 
bound;  so  I  tell  you  straight  out  that  the  reason  you 

12G 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

won't  learn  is  not  that  you  don't  want  to  be  clever,  or 
that  you  are  lazier  than  many  that  have  learned  a 
great  deal,  but  just  because  you'd  like  people  to  think 
that  you  know  everything  already — because  you're 
ashamed  to  be  seen  going  to  school ;  and  you  calculate 
that  if  you  only  hold  your  tongue  and  look  wise  you'll 
get  through  life  without  your  ignorance  being  found 
out.  But  where's  the  good  of  lies  and  pretence? 
What  does  it  matter  if  you  get  laughed  at  by  a  cheeky 
brat  or  two  for  your  awkward  beginnings?  What's 
the  use  of  always  thinking  of  how  you're  looking, 
when  your  sense  might  tell  you  that  other  people  are 
thinking  about  their  own  looks  and  not  about  yours  ? 
A  big  boy  doesn't  look  well  on  a  lower  form,  certainly; 
but  when  he  works  his  way  up  he'll  be  glad  he  began. 
I  speak  to  you  more  particularly  because  you're  Lon- 
doners; and  Londoners  beat  all  creation  for  thinking 
about  themselevs.  However,  I  don't  go  with  the  gen- 
tleman in  everything  he  said.  All  this  struggling  and 
striving  to  make  the  world  better  is  a  great  mistake; 
not  because  it  isn't  a  good  thing  to  improve  the  world 
if  you  know  how  to  do  it,  but  because  striving  and 
struggling  is  the  worst  way  you  could  set  about  doing 
anything.  It  gives  a  man  a  bad  style,  and  weakens 
him.  It  shows  that  he  don't  believe  in  himself  much. 
When  I  heard  the  professor  striving  and  struggling  so 
earnestly  to  set  you  to  work  reforming  this,  that,  and 
the  other,  I  said  to  myself,  '  He's  got  himself  to  per- 
suade as  well  as  his  audience.  That  isn't  the  language 
of  conviction.'     Whose — " 

"Really,  sir,"  said  Lucian  Webber,  who  had  made 
137 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

his  way  to  the  table,  "  I  think,  as  you  have  now  ad- 
dressed us  at  considerable  length,  and  as  there  are 
other  persons  present  whose  opinions  probably  excite 
as  much  curiosity  as  yours — "  He  was  interrupted  by 
a  "Hear,  hear,"  followed  by  "No,  no,"  and  "Go 
on,"  uttered  in  more  subdued  tones  than  are  custom- 
ary at  public  meetings,  but  with  more  animation  than 
is  usually  displayed  in  drawing-rooms.  Cashel,  who 
had  been  for  a  moment  somewhat  put  out,  turned  to 
Lucian  and  said,  in  a  tone  intended  to  repress,  but  at 
the  same  time  humor  his  impatience,  "  Don't  you  be 
in  a  hurry,  sir.  You  shall  have  your  turn  presently. 
Perhaps  I  may  tell  you  something  you  don't  know, 
before  I  stop."  Then  he  turned  again  to  the  com- 
pany, and  resumed. 

"We  were  talking  about  effort  when  this  young 
gentleman  took  it  upon  himself  to  break  the  ring. 
Now,  nothing  can  be  what  you  might  call  artisti- 
cally done  if  it's  done  with  an  effort.  If  a  thing  can't 
be  done  light  and  easy,  steady  and  certain,  let  it  not 
be  done  at  all.  Sounds  strange,  doesn't  it?  But  I'll 
tell  you  a  stranger  thing.  The  more  effort  you  make, 
the  less  effect  you  produce.  A  would-be  artist  is  no 
artist  at  all.  I  see  that  in  my  own  profession  (never 
mind  what  that  profession  is  just  at  present,  as  the 
ladies  might  think  the  worse  of  me  for  it).  But  in  all 
professions,  any  work  that  shows  signs  of  labor,  strain- 
ing, yearning — as  the  German  gentleman  said — or  effort 
of  any  kind,  is  work  beyond  the  man's  strength  that 
does  it,  and  therefore  not  well  done.  Perhaps  it's 
beyond  his  natural  strength ;  but  it  is  more  likely  that 

128 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

he  was  badly  taught.  Many  teachers  set  their  pupils 
on  to  strain  and  stretch,  so  that  they  get  used  up, 
body  and  mind,  in  a  few  months.  Depend  upon  it, 
the  same  thing  is  true  in  other  arts.  I  once  taught  a 
fiddler  that  used  to  get  a  hundred  guineas  for  playing 
two  or  three  tunes;  and  he  told  me  that  it  was  just  the 
same  thing  with  the  fiddle — that  when  you  laid  a  tight 
hold  on  your  fiddle-stick,  or  even  set  your  teeth  hard 
together,  you  could  do  nothing  but  rasp  like  the  fel- 
lows that  play  in  bands  for  a  few  shillings  a  night." 

"  How  much  more  of  this  nonsense  must  we  en- 
dure?" said  Lucian,  audibly,  as  Cashel  stopped  for 
breath.     Cashel  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"By  Jove  !"  whispered  Lord  Worthington  to  his 
companion,  "that  fellow  had  better  be  careful.  I 
wish  he  would  hold  his  tongue." 

"  You  think  it's  nonsense,  do  you  ?  "  said  Cashel, 
after  a  pause.  Then  he  raised  one  of  the  candles, 
and  illuminated  a  picture  that  hung  on  the  wall. 
"  Look  at  that  picture,"  he  said.  "  You  see  that  fel- 
low in  armor — St.  George  and  the  dragon,  or  what- 
ever he  may  be.  He's  jumped  down  from  his  horse 
to  fight  the  other  fellow — that  one  with  his  head  in  a 
big  helmet,  whose  horse  has  tumbled.  The  lady  in 
the  gallery  is  half  crazy  with  anxiety  for  St.  George; 
and  well  she  may  be.  Tliere's  a  posture  for  a  man  to 
fight  in  !  His  weight  isn't  resting  on  his  legs;  one 
touch  of  a  child's  finger  would  upset  him.  Look  at 
his  neck  craned  out  in  front  of  him,  and  his  face  as 
flat  as  a  full  moon  towards  his  man,  as  if  he  was  invit- 
ing him  to  shut  up  both  his  eyes  with  one  blow.  You 
9  129 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

can  all  see  that  he's  as  weak  and  nervous  as  a  cat,  and 
that  he  doesn't  know  how  to  fight.  And  why  does  he 
give  you  that  idea  ?  Just  because  he's  all  strain  and 
stretch;  because  he  isn't  at  his  ease;  because  he  carries 
the  weight  of  his  body  as  foolishly  as  one  of  the  ladies 
here  would  carry  a  hod  of  bricks;  because  he  isn't 
safe,  steady,  and  light  on  his  pins,  as  he  would  be  if 
he  could  forget  himself  for  a  minute,  and  leave  his 
body  to  find  its  proper  balance  of  its  own  accord.  If 
the  painter  of  that  picture  had  known  his  business  he 
would  never  have  sent  his  man  up  to  the  scratch  in 
such  a  figure  and  condition  as  that.  But  you  can  see 
with  one  eye  that  he  didn't  understand — I  won't  say 
the  principles  of  fighting,  but  the  universal  principles 
that  I've  told  you  of,  that  ease  aud  strength,  effort  and 
weakness,  go  together.  Now,"  added  Cashel,  again 
addressing  Lucian;  "do  you  still  think  that  notion 
of  mine  nonsense?"  And  he  smacked  his  lips  with 
satisfaction;  for  his  criticism  of  the  picture  had  pro- 
duced a  marked  sensation,  and  he  did  not  know  that 
this  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  painter,  Mr.  Adrian 
Herbert,  was  present. 

Lucian  tried  to  ignore  the  question;  but  he  found 
it  impossible  to  ignore  the  questioner.  "  Since  you 
have  set  the  example  of  expressing  opinions  without 
regard  to  considerations  of  common  courtesy,"  he  said, 
shortly,  "I  may  say  that  your  theory,  if  it  can  be 
called  one,  is  manifestly  absurd." 

Cashel,  apparently  unruffled,  but  with  more  delib- 
eration of  manner  than  before,  looked  about  him  as  if 
in  search  of  a  fresh  illustration.      His  glance  finally 

130 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

rested  on  the  lecturer's  seat,  a  capacious  crimson  dam- 
ask arm-chair  that  stood  unoccupied  at  some  distance 
behind  Lucian. 

"  I  see  you're  no  judge  of  a  picture,"  said  he,  good- 
humoredly,  putting  down  the  candle,  and  stepping  in 
front  of  Lucian.  who  regarded  him  haughtily,  and 
did  not  budge.  "  But  just  look  at  it  in  this  way. 
Suppose  you  wanted  to  hit  me  the  most  punishing 
blow  you  possibly  could.  What  would  you  do  ?  Why, 
according  to  your  own  notion,  you'd  make  a  great 
effort.  '  The  more  effort  the  more  force,'  you'd  say 
to  yourself.  '  I'll  smash  him  even  if  I  burst  myself  in 
doing  it.'  And  what  would  happen  then?  You'd 
only  cut  me  and  make  me  angry,  besides  exhausting 
all  your  strength  at  one  gasp.  Whereas,  if  you  took  it 
easy — like  this — "  Here  he  made  a  light  step  forward 
and  placed  his  open  palm  gently  against  the  breast  of 
Lucian,  who  instantly  reeled  back  as  if  the  piston-rod 
of  a  steam-engine  had  touched  him,  and  dropped  into 
the  chair. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Cashel,  standing  aside  and 
pointing  to  him.  "It's  like  pocketing  a  billiard- 
ball  !  " 

A  chatter  of  surprise,  amusement,  and  remonstrance 
spread  through  the  rooms;  and  the  company  crowded 
towards  the  table.  Lucian  rose,  white  with  rage,  and 
for  a  moment  entirely  lost  his  self-control.  Fortu- 
nately, the  effect  was  to  paralyze  him;  he  neither 
moved  nor  spoke,  and  only  betrayed  his  condition  by 
his  pallor  and  the  hatred  in  his  expression.  Presently 
he  felt  a  touch  on  his  arm  and  heard  his  name  pro- 

131 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

nounced  by  Lydia.  Her  voice  calmed  him.  He  tried 
to  look  at  her,  but  his  vision  was  disturbed;  he  saw 
double;  the  lights  seemed  to  dauce  before  his  eyes; 
and  Lord  Worthington's  voice,  saying  to  Cashel, 
"  Rather  too  practical,  old  fellow/'  seemed  to  come 
from  a  remote  corner  of  the  room,  and  yet  to  be  whis- 
pered into  his  ear.  He  was  moving  irresolutely  in 
search  of  Lydia  when  his  senses  and  his  resentment 
were  restored  by  a  clap  on  the  shoulder. 

"You  wouldn't  have  believed  that  now,  would 
you  ?  "  said  Cashel.  "  Don't  look  startled;  you've  no 
bones  broken.  You  had  your  little  joke  with  me  in 
your  own  way;  and  I  had  mine  in  my  own  way. 
That's  only—" 

He  stopped ;  his  brave  bearing  vanished ;  he  became 
limp  and  shamefaced.  Lucian,  without  a  word,  with- 
drew with  Lydia  to  the  adjoining  apartment,  and  left 
him  staring  after  her  with  wistful  eyes  and  slackened 
jaw. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  an  earnest-looking 
young  woman,  with  striking  dark  features  and  gold 
spectacles,  was  looking  for  Lord  Worthington,  who 
betrayed  a  consciousness  of  guilt  by  attempting  to 
avoid  her.  But  she  cut  off  his  retreat,  and  con- 
fronted him  with  a  steadfast  gaze  that  compelled  him 
to  stand  and  answer  for  himself. 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman  whom  you  introduced  to 
me?    I  do  not  recollect  his  name." 

"  I  am  really  awfully  sorry,  Mrs.  Hoskyn.  It  was 
too  bad  of  Byron.    But  Webber  was  excessively  nasty. " 

Mrs.  Hoskyn,  additionally  annoyed  by  apologies 
132 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

which  she  had  not  invited,  and  which  put  her  in  the 
ignominious  position  of  a  complainant,  replied  coldly, 
"Mr.  Byron!  Thank  you;  I  had  forgotten,"  and 
was  turning  away  when  Lydia  came  up  to  introduce 
Alice,  and  to  explain  why  she  had  entered  unan- 
nounced. Lord  Worthington  then  returned  to  the 
subject  of  Cashel,  hoping  to  improve  his  credit  by 
claiming  Lydia's  acquaintance  with  him. 

"  Did  you  hear  our  friend  Byron's  speech,  Miss 
Carew?    Very  characteristic,  I  thought." 

"Very,"  said  Lydia.  "I  hope  Mrs.  Hoskyn's 
guests  are  all  familiar  with  his  style.  Otherwise  they 
must  find  him  a  little  startling." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  beginning  to  wonder 
whether  Cashel  could  be  some  well-known  eccentric 
genius.  "  He  is  very  odd.  I  hope  Mr.  Webber  is  not 
offended." 

"  He  is  the  less  pleased  as  he  was  in  the  wrong,"  said 
Lydia.  "Intolerant  refusal  to  listen  to  an  opponent 
is  a  species  of  violence  that  has  no  business  in  such  a 
representative  nineteenth -century  drawing-room  as 
yours,  Mrs.  Hoskyn.  There  was  a  fitness  in  rebuking 
it  by  skilled  physical  violence.  Consider  the  prodi- 
gious tact  of  it,  too  !  One  gentleman  knocks  another 
half-way  across  a  crowded  room,  and  yet  no  one  is 
scandalized." 

"You  see,  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  the  general  verdict  is 
1  Served  him  right/  "  said  Lord  Worthington. 

"  With  a  rider  to  the  effect  that  both  gentlemen 
displayed  complete  indifference  to  the  comfort  of  their 
hostess,"  said  Lydia.     "  However,  men  so  rarely  sac- 

133 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

rifice  their  manners  to  their  minds  that  it  would  be  a 
pity  to  blame  them.  You  do  not  encourage  conven- 
tionality, Mrs.  Hoskyn?" 

"  I  encourage  good  manners,  though  certainly  not 
conventional  manners . " ' 

"  And  you  think  there  is  a  difference  ?  " 

"I  feel  that  there  is  a  difference/'  said  Mrs.  Hos- 
kyn,  with  dignity. 

"So  do  I,"  said  Lydia;  "but  one  can  hardly  call 
others  to  account  for  one's  own  subjective  ideas." 

Lydia  went  away  to  another  part  of  the  room  with- 
out waiting  for  a  reply.  Meanwhile,  Cashel  stood 
friendless  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  stared  at  by  most 
of  his  neighbors,  and  spoken  to  by  none.  Women 
looked  at  him  coldly  lest  it  should  be  suspected  that 
they  were  admiring  him;  and  men  regarded  him 
stiffly  according  to  the  national  custom.  Since  his 
recognition  of  Lydia,  his  self-confidence  had  given 
place  to  a  misgiving  that  he  had  been  making  a  fool 
of  himself.  He  began  to  feel  lonely  and  abashed;  and 
but  for  his  professional  habit  of  maintaining  a  cheerful 
countenance  under  adverse  circumstances,  he  would 
have  hid  himself  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room. 
He  was  getting  sullen,  and  seeking  consolation  in 
thoughts  of  how  terribly  he  could  handle  all  these 
distantly-mannered,  black-coated  gentlemen  if  he 
chose,  when  Lord  Worthington  came  up  to  him. 

"I  had  no  idea  you  were  such  an  orator,  Byron," 
he  said.  "  You  can  go  into  the  Church  when  you  cut 
the  other  trade.     Eh?" 

"I  wasn't  brought  up  to  the  other  trade,"  said 
134 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Cashel;  "  and  I  know  how  to  talk  to  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen as  well  as  to  what  you'd  suppose  to  be  my 
own  sort.  Don't  you  be  anxious  about  me,  my  lord. 
I  know  how  to  make  myself  at  home." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Lord  Worthington, 
soothingly.  "  Every  one  can  see  by  your  manners 
that  you  are  a  gentleman ;  they  recognize  that  even  in 
the  ring.  Otherwise — I  know  you  will  excuse  my 
saying  so — I  daren't  have  brought  you  here." 

Cashel  shook  his  head,  but  was  pleased.  He 
thought  he  hated  flattery;  had  Lord  Worthington  told 
him  that  he  was  the  best  boxer  in  England — which  he 
probably  was — he  would  have  despised  him.  But  he 
wished  to  believe  the  false  compliment  to  his  man- 
ners, and  was  therefore  perfectly  convinced  of  its  sin- 
cerity. Lord  Worthington  perceived  this,  and  retired, 
pleased  with  his  own  tact,  in  search  of  Mrs.  Hoskyn, 
to  claim  her  promise  of  an  introduction  to  Madame 
Szczymplica,  which  Mrs.  Hoskyn  had,  by  way  of 
punishing  him  for  Cashel's  misdemeanor,  privately 
determined  not  to  redeem. 

Cashel  began  to  think  he  had  better  go.  Lydia  was 
surrounded  by  men  who  were  speaking  to  her  in  Ger- 
man. He  felt  his  own  inability  to  talk  learnedly  even 
in  English;  and  he  had,  besides,  a  conviction  that  she 
was  angry  with  him  for  upsetting  her  cousin,  who 
was  gravely  conversing  with  Miss  Goff.  Suddenly  a 
horrible  noise  caused  a  general  start  and  pause.  Mr. 
Jack,  the  eminent  composer,  had  opened  the  piano- 
forte, and  was  illustrating  some  points  in  a  musical 
composition  under  discussion  by  making  discordant 

135 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

sounds  with  his  voice,  accompanied  by  a  few  chords. 
Cashel  laughed  aloud  in  derision  as  he  made  his  way 
towards  the  door  through  the  crowd,  which  was  now 
pressing  round  the  pianoforte  at  which  Madame 
Szczymplic^  had  just  come  to  the  assistance  of  Jack. 
Near  the  door,  and  in  a  corner  remote  from  the 
instrument,  he  came  upon  Lydia  and  a  middle-aged 
gentleman,  evidently  neither  a  professor  nor  an 
artist. 

"Ab'n'gas  is  a  very  clever  man,"  the  gentleman 
was  saying.  "I  am  sorry  I  didn't  hear  the  lecture. 
But  I  leave  all  that  to  Mary.  She  receives  the  people 
who  enjoy  high  art  up-stairs;  and  I  take  the  sensible 
men  down  to  the  garden  or  the  smoking-room,  accord- 
ing to  the  weather." 

"  What  do  the  sensible  women  do  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

"They  come  late,"  said  Mr.  Hoskyn,  and  then 
laughed  at  his  repartee  until  he  became  aware  of  the 
vioinity  of  Cashel,  whose  health  he  immediately  in- 
quired after,  shaking  his  hand  warmly  and  receiving 
a  numbing  grip  in  return.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that 
Lydia  and  Cashel  were  acquainted,  he  slipped  away 
and  left  them  to  entertain  one  another. 

"  I  wonder  how  he  knows  me,"  said  Cashel,  heart- 
ened by  her  gracious  reception  of  a  nervous  bow.  "  I 
never  saw  him  before  in  my  life." 

"He  does  not  know  you,"  said  Lydia,  with  some 
sternness.  "  He  is  your  host,  and  therefore  concludes 
that  he  ought  to  know  you." 

"  Oh !  That  was  it,  was  it  ?  "  He  paused,  at  a  loss 
for  conversation.     She  did  not  help  him.     At  last  he 

136 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

added,  "I  haven't  seen  you  this  long  time,  Miss 
Carew." 

"It  is  not  very  long  since  I  saw  yon,  Mr.  Cashel 
Byron.  I  saw  you  yesterday  at  some  distance  from 
London." 

14  Oh,  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  Cashel,  "don't  say  that. 
You're  joking,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  No.     Joking,  in  that  sense,  does  not  amuse  me." 

Cashel  looked  at  her  in  consternation.  "  You  don't 
mean  to  say  that  you  went  to  see  a — a —  Where — 
when  did  you  see  me  ?    You  might  tell  me." 

"  Certainly.  It  was  at  Clapham  Junction,  at  a 
quarter-past  six." 

"  Was  any  one  with  me?" 

"  Your  friend,  Mr.  Mellish,  Lord  Worthington,  and 
some  other  persons." 

"  Yes.  Lord  Worthington  was  there.  But  where 
were  you?  " 

"Ina  waiting-room,  close  to  you." 

"  I  never  saw  you,"  said  Cashel,  growing  red  as  he 
recalled  the  scene.  "We  must  have  looked  very 
queer.  I  had  had  an  accident  to  my  eye,  and  Mellish 
was  not  sober.  Did  you  think  I  was  in  bad  company  ?  " 

"  That  was  not  my  business,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron." 

"  No,"  said  Cashel,  with  sudden  bitterness.  "  What 
did  you  care  what  company  I  kept?  You're  mad 
with  me  because  I  made  your  cousin  look  like  a  fool, 
I  suppose.     That's  what's  the  matter." 

Lydia  looked  around  to  see  that  no  one  was  within 
earshot,  and,  speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  remind  him 
that  they  were  not  alone,  said,  "  There  is  nothing  the 

137 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

matter,  except  that  you  are  a  grown-up  boy  rather 
than  a  man.  I  am  not  mad  with  you  because  of  your 
attack  upon  my  cousin ;  but  he  is  very  much  annoyed, 
and  so  is  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  whose  guest  you  were  bound 
to  respect." 

"  I  knew  you'd  be  down  on  me.  I  wouldn't  have 
said  a  word  if  I'd  known  that  you  were  here,"  said 
Cashel,  dejectedly.  "Lie  down  and  be  walked  over; 
that's  what  you  think  I'm  fit  for.  Another  man 
would  have  twisted  his  head  off." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  that  gentlemen 
never  twist  one  another's  heads  off  in  society,  no  mat- 
ter how  great  may  be  the  provocation  ?  " 

"I  know  nothing,"  said  Cashel  with  plaintive  sul- 
lenness.  "  Everything  I  do  is  wrong.  There.  Will 
that  satisfy  you?  " 

Lydia  looked  up  at  him  in  doubt.  Then,  with 
steady  patience,  she  added:  "Will  you  answer  me  a 
question  on  your  honor  ?  " 

He  hesitated,  fearing  that  she  was  going  to  ask 
what  he  was. 

"  The  question  is  this,"  she  said,  observing  the  hes- 
itation. "Are  you  a  simpleton,  or  a  man  of  science 
pretending  to  be  a  simpleton  for  the  sake  of  mocking 
me  and  my  friends  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  mocking  you;  honor  bright  !  All  that 
about  science  was  only  a  joke — at  least,  it's  not  what 
you  call  science.  I'm  a  real  simpleton  in  drawing- 
room  affairs;  though  I'm  clever  enough  in  my  own 
line." 

"Then  try  to  believe  that  I  take  no  pleasure  in 
138 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

making  you  confess  yourself  in  the  wrong,  and  that 
you  cannot  have  a  lower  opinion  of  me  than  the  con- 
trary belief  implies." 

"That's  just  where  you're  mistaken,"  said  Cashel, 
obstinately.  "  I  haven't  got  a  low  opinion  of  you  at 
all.     There's  such  a  thing  as  being  too  clever." 

"You  may  not  know  that  it  is  a  low  opinion. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  so." 

"Well,  have  it  your  own  way.  I'm  wrong  again; 
and  you're  right." 

"  So  far  from  being  gratified  by  that,  I  had  rather 
that  we  were  both  in  the  right  and  agreed.  Can  you 
understand  that  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  I  do.  But  I  give  in  to  it.  What  more 
need  you  care  for  ?  " 

"  I  had  rather  you  understood.  Let  me  try  to  ex- 
plain. You  think  that  I  like  to  be  cleverer  than  other 
people.  You  are  mistaken.  I  should  like  them  all 
to  know  whatever  I  know." 

Cashel  laughed  cunningly,  and  shook  his  head. 
"  Don't  you  make  any  mistake  about  that,"  he  said. 
"  You  don't  want  anybody  to  be  quite  as  clever  as  your- 
self; it  isn't  in  human  nature  that  you  should.  You'd 
like  people  to  be  just  clever  enough  to  show  you  off — to 
be  worth  beating.  But  you  wouldn't  like  them  to  be 
able  to  beat  you.  Just  clever  enough  to  know  how 
much  cleverer  you  are;  that's  about  the  mark.    Eh  ?  " 

Lydia  made  no  further  effort  to  enlighten  him.  She 
looked  at  him  thoughtfully,  and  said,  slowly,  "  I  be- 
gin to  hold  the  clew  to  your  idiosyncrasy.  You  have 
attached  yourself  to  the  modern  doctrine  of  a  struggle 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

for  existence,  and  look  on  life  as  a  perpetual  com- 
bat." 

"A  fight?  Just  so.  What  is  life  but  a  fight? 
The  curs  forfeit  or  get  beaten;  the  rogues  sell  the 
fight  and  lose  the  confidence  of  their  backers;  the  game 
ones  and  the  clever  ones  win  the  stakes,  and  have  to 
hand  over  the  lion's  share  of  them  to  the  loafers;  and 
luck  plays  the  devil  with  them  all  in  turn.  That's 
not  the  way  they  describe  life  in  books;  but  that's 
what  it  is." 

"  Oddly  put,  but  perhaps  true.  Still,  is  there  any 
need  of  a  struggle?  Is  not  the  world  large  enough 
for  us  all  to  live  peacefully  in  ?  " 

"You  may  think  so,  because  you  were  born  with  a 
silver  spoon  in  your  mouth.  But  if  you  hadn't  to 
fight  for  that  silver  spoon,  some  one  else  had;  and  no 
doubt  he  thought  it  hard  that  it  should  be  taken  away 
from  him  and  given  to  you.  I  was  a  snob  myself 
once,  and  thought  the  world  was  made  for  me  to  enjoy 
myself  and  order  about  the  poor  fellows  whose  bread  I 
was  eating.  But  I  was  left  one  day  where  I  couldn't 
grab  any  more  of  their  bread,  and  had  to  make  some 
for  myself — ay,  and  some  extra  for  loafers  that  had 
the  power  to  make  me  pay  for  what  they  didn't  own. 
That  took  the  conceit  out  of  me  fast  enough.  But 
what  do  you  know  about  such  things  ?  " 

"  More  than  you  think,  perhaps.  These  are  dan- 
gerous ideas  to  take  with  you  into  English  society." 

"  Hmf  !  "  growled  Cashel.  "  They'd  be  more  dan- 
gerous if  I  could  give  every  man  that  is  robbed  of  half 
what  he  earns  twelve  lessons — in  science." 

140 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  So  you  can.  Publish  your  lessons.  '  Twelve  lec- 
tures on  political  economy,  by  Cashel  Byron.'  I  will 
help  you  to  publish  them,  if  you  wish." 

"Bless  your  innocence!"  said  Cashel:  "the  sort 
of  political  economy  I  teach  can't  be  learned  from  a 
book." 

"  You  have  become  an  enigma  again.  But  yours 
is  not  the  creed  of  a  simpleton.  You  are  playing  with 
me — revealing  your  wisdom  from  beneath  a  veil  of  in- 
fantile guileless uess.     I  have  no  more  to  say." 

"  May  I  be  shot  if  I  understand  you  !  I  never  pre- 
tended to  be  guileless.  Come:  is  it  because  I  raised  a 
laugh  against  your  cousin  that  you're  so  spiteful  ?  " 

Lydia  looked  earnestly  and  doubtfully  at  him;  and 
he  instinctively  put  his  head  back,  as  if  it  were  in 
danger.  "  You  do  not  understand,  then?  "  she  said. 
"  I  will  test  the  genuineness  of  your  stupidity  by  an 
appeal  to  your  obedience." 

"  Stupidity  !     Go  on." 

"  But  will  you  obey  me,  if  I  lay  a  command  upon 
you?" 

"  I  will  go  through  fire  and  water  for  you." 

Lydia  blushed  faintly,  and  paused  to  wonder  at  the 
novel  sensation  before  she  resumed.  "You  had 
better  not  apologize  to  my  cousin :  partly  because  you 
would  only  make  matters  worse;  chiefly  because  he 
does  not  deserve  it.  But  you  must  make  this  speech 
to  Mrs.  Hoskyn  when  you  are  going:  'I  am  very 
sorry  I  forgot  myself ' — " 

"Sounds  like  Shakespeare,  doesn't  it?"  observed 
Cashel. 

141 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"Ah  !  the  test  has  found  you  out;  you  are  only 
acting  after  all.  But  that  does  not  alter  my  opinion 
that  you  should  apologize/' 

"  All  right.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  test- 
ing and  acting;  and  I  only  hope  you  know  yourself. 
But  no  matter;  I'll  apologize;  a  man  like  me  can 
afford  to.  I'll  apologize  to  your  cousin,  too,  if  you 
like." 

"  I  do  not  like.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ? 
I  suggest  these  things,  as  you  must  be  aware,  for 
your  own  sake  and  not  for  mine." 

"  As  for  my  own,  I  don't  care  twopence:  I  do  it  all 
for  you.  I  don't  even  ask  whether  there  is  anything 
between  you  and  him." 

"Would  you  like  to  know?"  said  Lydia,  deliber- 
ately, after  a  pause  of  astonishment. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you'll  tell  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  If  you  do,  I'll  say  you're  as  good  as  gold." 

"  Certainly  I  will  tell  you.  There  is  an  old  friend- 
ship and  cousinship  between  us;  but  we  are  not  en- 
gaged, nor  at  all  likely  to  be.  I  tell  you  so  because, 
if  I  avoided  the  question,  you  would  draw  the  opposite 
and  false  conclusion." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Cashel,  unexpectedly  be- 
coming very  gloomy.  "  He  isn't  man  enough  for 
you.     But  he's  your  equal,  damn  him  !  " 

"  He  is  my  cousin,  and,  I  believe,  my  sincere  friend. 
Therefore  please  do  not  damn  him." 

"I  know  I  shouldn't  have  said  that.  But  I  am 
only  damning  my  own  luck." 

"  Which  will  not  improve  it  in  the  least." 
142 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  know  that.  You  needn't  have  said  it.  I 
wouldn't  have  said  a  thing  like  that  to  you,  stupid  as 
lam." 

"Evidently  you  suppose  me  to  have  meant  more 
than  I  really  did.  However,  that  does  not  matter. 
You  are  still  an  enigma  to  me.  Had  we  not  better  try 
to  hear  a  little  of  Madame  Szczymplica's  perform- 
ance?" 

"I'm  a  pretty  plain  enigma,  I  should  think,"  said 
Cashel,  mournfully.  "  I  would  rather  have  you  than 
any  other  woman  in  the  world;  but  you're  too  rich 
and  grand  for  me.  If  I  can't  have  the  satisfaction  of 
marrying  you,  I  may  as  well  have  the  satisfaction  of 
saying  I'd  like  to." 

"Hardly  a  fair  way  of  approaching  the  subject," 
said  Lydia,  composedly,  but  with  a  play  of  color  again 
in  her  cheeks.  "  Allow  me  to  forbid  it  uncondition- 
ally. I  must  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron. 
I  do  not  know  what  you  are  or  who  you  are;  and  I 
believe  you  have  tried  to  mystify  me  on  both  points — " 

"  And  you  never  shall  find  out  either  the  one  or  the 
other,  if  I  can  help  it,"  put  in  Cashel;  "  so  that  we're 
in  a  preciously  bad  way  of  coming  to  a  good  under- 
standing." 

"  True,"  assented  Lydia.  "  I  do  not  make  secrets; 
I  do  not  keep  them;  and  I  do  not  respect  them. 
Your  humor  clashes  with  my  principle." 

"You  call  it  a  humor!"  said  Cashel,  angrily. 
"  Perhaps  you  think  I  am  a  duke  in  disguise.  If  so, 
you  may  think  better  of  it.  If  you  had  a  secret,  the 
discovery  of  which  would  cause  you  to  be  kicked  out 

143 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

of  decent  society,  you  would  keep  it  pretty  tight. 
And  that  through  no  fault  of  your  own,  mind  you; 
but  through  downright  cowardice  and  prejudice  in 
other  people." 

"  There  are  at  least  some  fears  and  prejudices  com- 
mon in  society  that  I  do  not  share,"  said  Lydia,  after 
a  moment's  reflection.  "  Should  I  ever  find  out  your 
secret,  do  not  too  hastily  conclude  that  you  have  for- 
feited my  consideration." 

"  You  are  just  the  last  person  on  earth  by  whom  I 
want  to  be  found  out.  But  you'll  find  out  fast 
enough.  Pshaw  !  "  cried  Cashel,  with  a  laugh,  "I'm 
as  well  known  as  Trafalgar  Square.  But  I  can't  bring 
myself  to  tell  you;  and  I  hate  secrets  as  much  as  you 
do;  so  let's  drop  it  and  talk  about  something  else." 

"  We  have  talked  long  enough.  The  music  is  over, 
and  the  people  will  return  to  this  room  presently,  per- 
haps to  ask  me  who  and  what  is  the  stranger  who  made 
them  such  a  remarkable  speech." 

"  Just  a  word.  Promise  me  that  you  won't  ask  any 
of  them  that." 

"  Promise  you  !    No.     I  cannot  promise  that." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  "  said  Cashel,  with  a  groan. 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  do  not  respect  secrets. 
For  the  present  I  will  not  ask;  but  I  may  change  my 
mind.  Meanwhile  we  must  not  hold  long  conversa- 
tions. I  even  hope  that  we  shall  not  meet.  There  is 
only  one  thing  that  I  am  too  rich  and  grand  for. 
That  one  thing — mystification.     Adieu." 

Before  he  could  reply  she  was  away  from  him  in  the 
midst  of  a  number  of  gentlemen,  and  in  conversation 

144 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

with  one  of  them.  Cashel  seemed  overwhelmed.  But 
in  an  instant  he  recovered  himself,  and  stepped  jaun- 
tily before  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  who  had  just  come  into  his 
neighborhood. 

"  I'm  going,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  Thank  you  for  a 
pleasant  evening.  I'm  very  sorry  I  forgot  myself. 
Good-night." 

Mrs.  Hoskyn,  naturally  frank,  felt  some  vague  re- 
sponse within  herself  to  this  address.  But,  though 
not  usually  at  a  loss  for  words  in  social  emergencies, 
she  only  looked  at  him,  blushed  slightly,  and  offered 
her  hand.  He  took  it  as  if  it  were  a  tiny  baby's  hand 
and  he  afraid  of  hurting  it,  gave  it  a  little  pinch,  and 
turned  to  go.  Mr.  Adrian  Herbert,  the  painter,  was 
directly  in  his  way,  with  his  back  towards  him. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Cashel,  taking  him  gently 
by  the  ribs,  and  moving  him  aside.  The  artist  turned 
indignantly,  but  Cashel  was  passing  the  doorway.  On 
the  stairs  he  met  Lucian  and  Alice,  and  stopped  a  mo- 
ment to  take  leave  of  them. 

"Good-night,  Miss  Goff,"  he  said.  "It's  a  pleas- 
ure to  see  the  country  roses  in  your  cheeks."  He 
lowered  his  voice  as  he  added,  to  Lucian,  "  Don't  you 
worry  yourself  rver  that  little  trick  I  showed  you.  If 
any  of  your  friends  chaff  you  about  it,  tell  them  that 
it  was  Cashel  Byron  did  it,  and  ask  them  whether  they 
think  they  could  have  helped  themselves  any  better 
than  you  could.  Don't  ever  let  a  person  come  within 
distance  of  you  while  you're  standing  in  that  silly  way 
on  both  your  heels.  Why,  if  a  man  isn't  properly 
planted  on  his  pins,  a  broom-handle  falling  against 
10  145 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

him  will  upset  him.     That's  the  way  of  it.     Good- 
night." 

Lucian  returned  the  salutation,  mastered  by  a  cer- 
tain latent  dangerousness  in  Cashel,  suggestive  that  he 
might  resent  a  snub  by  throwing  the  offender  over  the 
balustrade.  As  for  Alice,  she  had  entertained  a  super- 
stitious dread  of  him  ever  since  Lydia  had  pronounced 
him  a  ruffian.  Both  felt  relieved  when  the  house  door, 
closing,  shut  them  out  of  his  reach. 


146 


CHAPTER  VII 

Society  was  much  occupied  during  Alice's  first 
season  in  London  with  the  upshot  of  an  historical 
event  of  a  common  kind.  England,  a  few  years  be- 
fore, had  stolen  a  kingdom  from  a  considerable  people 
in  Africa,  and  seized  the  person  of  its  king.  The  con- 
quest proved  useless,  troublesome,  and  expensive;  and 
after  repeated  attempts  to  settle  the  country  on  im- 
practicable plans  suggested  to  the  Colonial  Office  by  a 
popular  historian  who  had  made  a  trip  to  Africa,  and 
by  generals  who  were  tired  of  the  primitive  remedy  of 
killing  the  natives,  it  appeared  that  the  best  course 
was  to  release  the  captive  king  and  get  rid  of  the  un- 
profitable booty  by  restoring  it  to  him.  In  order, 
however,  that  the  impression  made  on  him  by  Eng- 
land's short-sighted  disregard  of  her  neighbor's  land- 
mark abroad  might  be  counteracted  by  a  glimpse  of 
the  vastness  of  her  armaments  and  wealth  at  home,  it 
was  thought  advisable  to  take  him  first  to  London,  and 
show  him  the  wonders  of  the  town.  But  when  the 
king  arrived,  his  freedom  from  English  preposses- 
sions made  it  difficult  to  amuse,  or  even  to  impress 
him.  A  stranger  to  the  idea  that  a  private  man  could 
own  a  portion  of  the  earth  and  make  others  pay  him 
for  permission  to  live  on  it,  he  was  unable  to  under- 
stand why  such  a  prodigiously  wealthy  nation  should 

147 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

be  composed  partly  of  poor  and.  uncomfortable  persons 
toiling  incessantly  to  create  riches,  and  partly  of  a 
class  that  confiscated  and  dissipated  the  wealth  thus 
produced  without  seeming  to  be  at  all  happier  than 
the  unfortunate  laborers  at  whose  expense  they  existed. 
He  was  seized  with  strange  fears,  first  for  his  health, 
for  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  air  of  London,  filthy 
with  smoke,  engendered  puniness  and  dishonesty  in 
those  who  breathed  it;  and  eventually  for  his  life, 
when  he  learned  that  kings  in  Europe  were  sometimes 
shot  at  by  passers-by,  there  being  hardly  a  monarch 
there  who  had  not  been  so  imperilled  more  than  once; 
that  the  Queen  of  England,  though  accounted  the 
safest  of  all,  was  accustomed  to  this  variety  of  pistol 
practice;  and  that  the  autocrat  of  an  empire  huge  be- 
yond all  other  European  countries,  whose  father  had 
been  torn  asunder  in  the  streets  of  his  capital,  lived 
surrounded  by  soldiers  who  shot  down  all  strangers 
that  approached  him  even  at  his  own  summons,  and 
was  an  object  of  compassion  to  the  humblest  of  his 
servants.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  African 
king  was  with  difficulty  induced  to  stir  out  of  doors; 
and  he  only  visited  Woolwich  Arsenal — the  destructive 
resources  of  which  were  expected  to  influence  his 
future  behavior  in  a  manner  favorable  to  English 
supremacy — under  compulsion.  At  last  the  Colonial 
Office,  which  had  charge  of  him,  was  at  its  wit's  end 
to  devise  entertainments  to  keep  him  in  good-humor 
until  the  appointed  time  for  his  departure. 

On  the  Tuesday  following  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  reception, 
LiWan  Webber  called,  at  his  cousin's  house  in  Regent's 

148 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Park,  and  said,  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  with 
the  two  ladies  there, 

"The  Colonial  Office  has  had  an  idea.  The  king, 
it  appears,  is  something  of  an  athlete,  and  is  curious 
to  witness  what  Londoners  can  do  in  that  way.  So  a 
grand  assault-at-arms  is  to  be  held  for  him." 

"What  is  an  assault-at-arms?"  said  Lydia.  "I 
have  never  been  at  one;  and  the  name  suggests  nothing 
but  an  affray  with  bayonets." 

"It  is  an  exhibition  of  swordsmanship,  military 
drill,  gymnastics,  and  so  forth." 

"  I  will  go  to  that,"  said  Lydia.  "  Will  you  come, 
Alice?" 

"  Is  it  usual  for  ladies  to  go  to  such  exhibitions  ?  " 
said  Alice,  cautiously. 

"  On  this  occasion  ladies  will  go  for  the  sake  of 
seeing  the  king,"  said  Lucian.  "The  Olympian 
gymnastic  society,  which  has  undertaken  the  direction 
of  the  part  of  the  assault  that  is  to  show  off  the  prow- 
ess of  our  civilians,  expects  what  they  call  a  flower- 
show  audience." 

"  Will  you  come,  Lucian  ?  " 

"  If  I  can  be  spared,  yes.  If  not,  I  will  ask  Worth- 
ington  to  go  with  you.  He  understands  such  matters 
better  than  I." 

"  Then  let  us  have  him,  by  all  means,"  said  Lydia. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  you  are  so  fond  of  Lord  Worth  - 
ington,"  said  Alice.  "His  manners  are  good;  but 
there  is  nothing  in  him.  Besides,  he  is  so  young.  I 
cannot  endure  his  conversation.  He  has  begun  to 
talk  about  Goodwood  already." 

149 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"He  will  grow  out  of  his  excessive  addiction  to 
sport,"  said  Lucian. 

"Indeed,"  said  Lydia.  "And  what  will  he  grow 
into?" 

"  Possibly  into  a  more  reasonable  man,"  said  Lu- 
cian, gravely. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Lydia;  "  but  I  prefer  a  man  who 
is  interested  in  sport  to  a  gentleman  who  is  interested 
in  nothing." 

"  Much  might  indubitably  be  said  from  that  point 
of  view.  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  Lord  Worthing- 
ton  should  waste  his  energy  on  horse-racing.  I  pre- 
sume you  do  not  think  political  life,  for  which  his 
position  peculiarly  fits  him,  unworthy  his  attention." 

"  Party  tactics  are  both  exciting  and  amusing,  no 
doubt.  But  are  they  better  than  horse-racing  ?  Jock- 
eys and  horse-breakers  at  least  know  their  business; 
our  legislators  do  not.  Is  it  pleasant  to  sit  on  a  bench 
— even  though  it  be  the  treasury  bench — and  listen  to 
either  absolute  nonsense  or  childish  disputes  about 
conclusions  that  were  foregone  in  the  minds  of  all  sen- 
sible men  a  hundred  years  ago?  " 

"You  do  not  understand  the  duties  of  a  govern- 
ment, Lydia.  You  never  approach  the  subject  with- 
out confirming  my  opinion  that  women  are  constitu- 
tionally incapable  of  comprehending  it." 

"  It  is  natural  for  you  to  think  so,  Lucian.  The 
House  of  Commons  is  to  you  the  goal  of  existence. 
To  me  it  is  only  an  assemblage  of  ill-informed  gentle- 
men who  have  botched  every  business  they  have  ever 
undertaken,  from  the  first  committee  of  supply  down 

150 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

to  the  last  land  act;  and  who  arrogantly  assert  that 
I  am  not  good  enough  to  sit  with  them." 

"Lydia,"  said  Lucian,  annoyed;  "you  know  that 
I  respect  women  in  their  own  sphere — " 

"  Then  give  them  another  sphere,  and  perhaps  they 
will  earn  your  respect  in  that  also.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  men,  in  their  sphere,  have  not  won  my  respect. 
Enough  of  that  for  the  present.  I  have  to  make  some 
domestic  arrangements,  which  are  of  more  immediate 
importance  than  the  conversion  of  a  good  politician 
into  a  bad  philosopher.    Excuse  me  for  five  minutes." 

She  left  the  room.  Lucian  sat  down  and  gave  his 
attention  to  Alice,  who  had  still  enough  of  her  old 
nervousness  to  make  her  straighten  her  shoulders  and 
look  stately.  But  he  did  not  object  to  this;  a  little 
stiffness  of  manner  gratified  his  taste. 

"I  hope,"  he  said,  "that  my  cousin  has  not  suc- 
ceeded in  inducing  you  to  adopt  her  peculiar  views." 

"No,"  said  Alice.  "Of  course  her  case  is  quite 
exceptional — she  is  so  wonderfully  accomplished.  In 
general,  I  do  not  think  women  should  have  views. 
There  are  certain  convictions  which  every  lady  holds: 
for  instance,  we  know  that  Roman  Catholicism  is 
wrong.  But  that  can  hardly  be  called  a  view;  indeed 
it  would  be  wicked  to  call  it  so,  as  it  is  one  of  the 
highest  truths.  What  I  mean  is  that  women  should 
not  be  political  agitators." 

"I  understand,  and  quite  agree  with  you.  Lydia 
is,  as  you  say,  an  exceptional  case.  She  has  lived 
much  abroad ;  and  her  father  was  a  very  singular  man. 
Even  the  clearest  heads,  when  removed  from  the  direct 

151 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

influence  of  English  life  and  thought,  contract  ex- 
traordinary prejudices.  Her  father  at  one  time  actu- 
ally attempted  to  leave  a  large  farm  to  the  government 
in  trust  for  the  people;  but  fortunately  he  found  that 
it  was  impossible;  no  such  demise  was  known  to  the 
English  law  or  practicable  by  it.  He  subsequently 
admitted  the  folly  of  this  by  securing  Lydia's  rights 
as  his  successor  as  stringently  as  he  could.  It  is  almost 
a  pity  that  such  strength  of  mind  and  extent  of 
knowledge  should  be  fortified  by  the  dangerous  inde- 
pendence which  great  wealth  confers.  Advantages 
like  these  bring  with  them  certain  duties  to  the  class 
that  has  produced  them — duties  to  which  Lydia  is  not 
merely  indifferent,  but  absolutely  hostile/' 

"  I  never  meddle  with  her  ideas  on — on  these  sub- 
jects. I  am  too  ignorant  to  understand  them.  But 
Miss  Oarew's  generosity  to  me  has  been  unparalleled. 
And  she  does  not  seem  to  know  that  she  is  generous. 
I  owe  more  to  her  than  I  ever  can  repay.  At  least," 
Alice  added,  to  herself,  "lam  not  ungrateful." 

Miss  Carew  now  reappeared,  dressed  in  a  long,  gray 
coat  and  plain  beaver  hat,  and  carrying  a  roll  of  writ- 
ing materials. 

"lam  going  to  the  British  Museum  to  read,"  said 
she. 

"To  walk  ! — alone  !  "  said  Lucian,  looking  at  her 
costume. 

"  Yes.  Prevent  me  from  walking,  and  you  deprive 
me  of  my  health.  Prevent  me  from  going  alone  where 
I  please  and  when  I  please,  and  you  deprive  me  of  my 
liberty — tear  up  Magna  Charta,  in  effect.      But  I  do 

152 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

not  insist  upon  being  alone  in  this  instance.  If  you 
cau  return  to  your  office  by  way  of  Regent's  Park  and 
Gower  Street  without  losing  too  much  time,  I  shall  be 
glad  of  your  company." 

Lucian  decorously  suppressed  his  eagerness  to  com- 
ply by  looking  at  his  watch  and  pretending  to  consider 
his  engagements.  In  conclusion,  he  said  that  he 
should  be  happy  to  accompany  her. 

It  was  a  fine  summer  afternoon,  and  there  were  many 
people  in  the  park.  Lucian  was  soon  incommoded  by 
the  attention  his  cousin  attracted.  In  spite  of  the 
black  beaver,  her  hair  shone  like  fire  in  the  sun. 
"Women  stared  at  her  with  unsympathetic  curiosity, 
and  turned  as  they  passed  to  examine  her  attire.  Men 
resorted  to  various  subterfuges  to  get  a  satisfactory 
look  without  rudely  betraying  their  intention.  A  few 
stupid  youths  gaped;  and  a  few  impudent  ones  smiled. 
Lucian  would  gladly  have  kicked  them  all,  without 
distinction.  He  at  last  suggested  that  they  should 
leave  the  path,  and  make  a  short  cut  across  the  green- 
sward. As  they  emerged  from  the  shade  of  the  trees 
he  had  a  vague  impression  that  the  fineness  of  the 
weather  and  the  beauty  of  the  park  made  the  occasion 
romantic,  and  that  the  words  by  which  he  hoped  to 
make  the  relation  between  him  and  his  cousin  dearer 
and  closer  would  be  well  spoken  there.  But  he  immedi- 
ately began  to  talk,  in  spite  of  himself,  about  the  cost 
of  maintaining  the  public  parks,  of  the  particulars  of 
which  he  happened  to  have  some  official  knowledge. 
Lydia,  readily  interested  by  facts  of  any  sort,  thought 
the  subject  not  a  bad  one  for  a  casual  afternoon  con- 

103 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

versation,  and  pursued  it  until  they  left  the  turf  and 
got  into  the  Euston  Koad,  where  the  bustle  of  traffic 
silenced  them  for  a  while.  When  they  escaped  from 
the  din  into  the  respectable  quietude  of  Gower  Street, 
he  suddenly  said, 

4 '  It  is  one  of  the  evils  of  great  wealth  in  the  hands 
of  a  woman,  that  she  can  hardly  feel  sure — "  His 
ideas  fled  suddenly.  He  stopped;  but  he  kept  his 
countenance  so  well  that  he  had  the  air  of  having 
made  a  finished  speech,  and  being  perfectly  satisfied 
with  it. 

' '  Do  you  mean  that  she  can  never  feel  sure  of  the 
justice  of  her  title  to  her  riches  ?  That  used  to  trouble 
me;  but  it  no  longer  does  so." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Lucian.  "  I  alluded  to  the  dis- 
interestedness of  your  friends." 

"  That  does  not  trouble  me  either.  Absolutely  dis- 
interested friends  I  do  not  seek,  as  I  should  only  find 
them  among  idiots  or  somnambulists.  As  to  those 
whose  interests  are  base,  they  do  not  know  how  to  con- 
ceal their  motives  from  me.  For  the  rest,  I  am  not  so 
unreasonable  as  to  object  to  a  fair  account  being  taken 
of  my  wealth  in  estimating  the  value  of  my  friend- 
ship." 

"  Do  you  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  persons  who 
would  like  you  just  as  well  if  you  were  poor  ?  " 

"  Such  persons  would,  merely  to  bring  me  nearer  to 
themselves,  wish  me  to  become  poor;  for  which  I 
should  not  thank  them.  I  set  great  store  by  the  es- 
teem my  riches  command,  Lucian.  It  is  the  only  set- 
off I  have  against  the  envy  they  inspire." 

154 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Then  you  would  refuse  to  believe  in  the  disinter- 
estedness of  any  man  who — who — " 

"  Who  wanted  to  marry  me?  On  the  contrary:  I 
should  be  the  last  person  to  believe  that  a  man  could 
prefer  my  money  to  myself.  If  he  were  independent, 
and  in  a  fair  way  to  keep  his  place  in  the  world  with- 
out my  help,  I  should  despise  him  if  he  hesitated  to 
approach  me  for  fear  of  misconstruction.  I  do  not 
thiuk  a  man  is  ever  thoroughly  honest  until  he  is  su- 
perior to  that  fear.  But  if  he  had  no  profession,  no 
money,  and  no  aim  except  to  live  at  my  expense,  then 
I  should  regard  him  as  an  adventurer,  and  treat  him 
as  one — unless  I  fell  in  love  with  him." 

"  Unless  you  fell  in  love  with  him  !  " 

"  That — assuming  that  such  things  really  happen — 
would  make  a  difference  in  my  feeling,  but  none  in 
my  conduct.  I  would  not  marry  an  adventurer  under 
any  circumstances.  I  could  cure  myself  of  a  misdi- 
rected passion,  but  not  of  a  bad  husband." 

Lucian  said  nothing;  he  walked  on  with  long,  irreg- 
ular steps,  lowering  at  the  pavement  as  if  it  were  a 
difficult  problem,  and  occasionally  thrusting  at  it  with 
his  stick.     At  last  he  looked  up,  and  said, 

"  Would  you  mind  prolonging  your  walk  a  little  by 
going  round  Bedford  Square  with  me  ?  I  have  some- 
thing particular  to  say." 

She  turned  and  complied  without  a  word ;  and  they 
had  traversed  one  side  of  the  square  before  he  spoke 
again,  in  these  terms: 

"On  second  thoughts,  Lydia,  this  is  neither  the 
proper  time  nor  place  for  an  important  communica- 

155 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

tion.  Excuse  me  for  having  taken  you  out  of  your 
way  for  nothing." 

"  I  do  not  like  this,  Lucian.  Important  communi- 
cations— in  this  case — corrupt  good  manners.  If  your 
intended  speech  is  a  sensible  one,  the  present  is  as 
good  a  time,  and  Bedford  Square  as  good  a  place,  as 
you  are  likely  to  find  for  it.  If  it  is  otherwise,  confess 
that  you  have  decided  to  leave  it  unsaid.  But  do  not 
postpone  it.  Reticence  is  always  an  error — even  on 
the  treasury  bench.  It  is  doubly  erroneous  in  dealing 
with  me;  for  I  have  a  constitutional  antipathy  to  it." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  hurriedly;  "but  give  me  one 
moment — until  the  policeman  has  passed." 

The  policeman  went  leisurely  by,  striking  the  flags 
with  his  heels,  and  slapping  his  palm  with  a  white 
glove. 

"  The  fact  is,  Lydia,  that — I  feel  great  difficulty — " 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Lydia,  after  waiting 
in  vain  for  further  particulars.  "  You  have  broken 
down  twice  in  a  speech."  There  was  a  pause.  Then 
she  looked  at  him  quickly,  and  added,  incredulously, 
"Are  you  going  to  get  married?  Is  that  the  secret 
that  ties  your  practised  tongue  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  take  part  in  the  ceremony." 

"  Very  gallant;  and  in  a  vein  of  humor  that  is  new 
in  my  experience  of  you.  But  what  have  you  to  tell 
me,  Lucian  ?  Frankly,  your  hesitation  is  becoming 
ridiculous." 

"You  have  certainly  not  made  matters  easier  for 
me,  Lydia.  Perhaps  you  have  a  womanly  intuition  of 
my  purpose,  and  are  intentionally  discouraging  me." 

156 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"Not  the  least.  I  am  not  good  at  speculations 
of  that  sort.  On  my  word,  if  you  do  not  confess 
quickly,  I  will  hurry  away  to  the  museum." 

"I  cannot  find  a  suitable  form  of  expression,"  said 
Lucian,  in  painful  perplexity.  "  I  am  sure  you  will 
not  attribute  any  sordid  motive  to  my — well,  to  my 
addresses,  though  the  term  seems  absurd.  I  am  too 
well  aware  that  there  is  little,  from  the  usual  point  of 
view,  to  tempt  you  to  unite  yourself  to  me.     Still — " 

A  rapid  change  in  Lydia's  face  showed  him  that  he 
had  said  enough.  "  I  had  not  thought  of  this,"  she 
said,  after  a  silence  that  seemed  long  to  him.  "  Our 
observations  are  so  meaningless  until  we  are  given 
the  thread  to  string  them  on  !  You  must  think 
better  of  this,  Lucian.  The  relation  that  at  pres- 
ent exists  between  us  is  the  very  best  that  our  differ- 
ent characters  will  admit  of.  Why  do  you  desire 
to  alter  it?" 

"  Because  I  would  make  it  closer  and  more  perma- 
nent.    I  do  not  wish  to  alter  it  otherwise." 

"  You  would  run  some  risk  of  simply  destroying  it 
by  the  method  you  propose,"  said  Lydia,  with  com- 
posure. ' '  We  could  not  co-operate.  There  are  differ- 
ences of  opinion  between  us  amounting  to  differences 
of  principle." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  serious.  Your  political  opin- 
ions, or  notions,  are  not  represented  by  any  party  in 
England;  and  therefore  they  are  practically  ineffec- 
tive, and  could  not  clash  with  mine.  And  such  differ- 
ences are  not  personal  matters." 

"  Such  a  party  might  be  formed  a  week  after  our 
157 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

marriage — will,  I  think,  be  formed  a  long  time  before 
our  deaths.  In  that  case  I  fear  that  our  difference  of 
opinion  would  become  a  very  personal  matter." 

He  began  to  walk  more  quickly  as  he  replied,  "It 
is  too  absurd  to  set  up  what  you  call  your  opinions  as 
a  serious  barrier  between  us.  You  have  no  opinions, 
Lydia.  The  impracticable  crotchets  you  are  fond  of 
airing  are  not  recognized  in  England  as  sane  political 
convictions." 

Lydia  did  not  retort.  She  waited  a  minute  in  pen- 
sive silence,  and  then  said, 

"  Why  do  you  not  marry  Alice  Goff  ?  " 

"  Oh,  hang  Alice  Goff  !  " 

"It  is  so  easy  to  come  at  the  man  beneath  the 
veneer  by  expertly  chipping  at  his  feelings,"  said 
Lydia,  laughing.  "  But  I  was  serious,  Lucian.  Alice 
is  energetic,  ambitious,  and  stubbornly  upright  in 
questions  of  principle.  I  believe  she  would  assist  you 
steadily  at  every  step  of  your  career.  Besides,  she  has 
physical  robustness.  Our  student-stock  needs  an  in- 
fusion of  that." 

"Many  thanks  for  the  suggestion;  but  I  do  not 
happen  to  want  to  marry  Miss  Goff." 

"I  invite  you  to  consider  it.  You  have  not  had 
time  yet  to  form  any  new  plans." 

"  New  plans  !  Then  you  absolutely  refuse  me — ■ 
without  a  moment's  consideration  ?  " 

"  Absolutely,  Lucian.  Does  not  your  instinct  waru 
you  that  it  would  be  a  mistake  for  you  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"No;  I  cannot  say  that  it  does." 

"  Then  trust  to  mine,  which  gives  forth  no  uncer- 
158 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

tain  note  on  this  question,  as  your  favorite  newspapers 
are  fond  of  saying." 

"It  is  a  question  of  feeling,"  he  said,  in  a  con- 
strained voice. 

"Is  it?"  she  replied,  with  interest.  "You  have 
surprised  me  somewhat,  Lucian.  I  have  never  observed 
any  of  the  extravagances  of  a  lover  in  your  conduct." 

"  And  you  have  surprised  me  very  unpleasantly, 
Lydia.  I  do  not  think  now  that  I  ever  had  much 
hope  of  success;  but  I  thought,  at  least,  that  my  dis- 
illusion would  be  gently  accomplished." 

"  What !     Have  I  been  harsh  ?  " 

"I  do  not  complain." 

"I  was  unlucky,  Lucian;  not  malicious.  Besides, 
the  artifices  by  which  friends  endeavor  to  spare  one 
another's  feelings  are  pretty  disloyalties.  I  am  frank 
with  you.     Would  you  have  me  otherwise?  " 

"  Of  course  not.     I  have  no  right  to  be  offended." 

"  Not  the  least.  Now  add  to  that  formal  admission 
a  sincere  assurance  that  you  are  not  offended." 

"  I  assure  you  I  am  not,"  said  Lucian,  with  melan- 
choly resignation. 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  Charlotte  Street,  and 
Lydia  tacitly  concluded  the  conference  by  turning 
towards  the  museum,  and  beginning  to  talk  upon 
indifferent  subjects.  At  the  corner  of  Kussell  Street 
he  got  into  a  cab  and  drove  away,  dejectedly  acknowl- 
edging a  smile  and  wave  of  the  hand  with  which  Lydia 
tried  to  console  him.  She  then  went  to  the  national 
library,  where  she  forgot  Lucian.  The  effect  of  the 
shock  of  his  proposal  was  in  store  for  her,  but  as  yet 

159 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

she  did  not  feel  it;  and  she  worked  steadily  until  the 
library  was  closed  and  she  had  to  leave.  As  she  had 
been  sitting  for  some  hours,  and  it  was  still  light,  she 
did  not  take  a  cab,  and  did  not  even  walk  straight 
home.  She  had  heard  of  a  bookseller  in  Soho  who 
had  for  sale  a  certain  scarce  volume  which  she  wanted ; 
and  it  occurred  to  her  that  the  present  was  a  good 
opportunity  to  go  in  search  of  him.  Now,  there  was 
hardly  a  capital  in  western  Europe  that  she  did  not 
know  better  than  London.  She  had  an  impression 
that  Soho  was  a  region  of  quiet  streets  and  squares, 
like  Bloomsbury.  Her  mistake  soon  became  apparent; 
but  she  felt  no  uneasiness  in  the  narrow  thoroughfares, 
for  she  was  free  from  the  common  prejudice  of  her 
class  that  poor  people  are  necessarily  ferocious,  though 
she  often  wondered  why  they  were  not  so.  She  got  as 
far  as  Great  Pulteney  Street  in  safety;  but  in  leaving 
it  she  took  a  wrong  turning  and  lost  herself  in  a  laby- 
rinth of  courts  where  a  few  workmen,  a  great  many 
workmen's  wives  and  mothers,  and  innumerable  work- 
men's children  were  passing  the  summer  evening  at 
gossip  and  play.  She  explained  her  predicament  to 
one  of  the  women,  who  sent  a  little  boy  with  her  to 
guide  her.  Business  being  over  for  the  day,  the  street 
to  which  the  boy  led  her  was  almost  deserted.  The 
only  shop  that  seemed  to  be  thriving  was  a  public- 
house,  outside  which  a  few  roughs  were  tossing  for 
pence. 

Lydia's  guide,  having  pointed  out  her  way  to  her, 
prepared  to  return  to  his  playmates.  She  thanked 
him,  and  gave  him  the  smallest  coin  in  her  purse, 

160 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

which  happened  to  be  a  shilling.  He,  in  a  transport 
at  possessing  what  was  to  him  a  fortune,  uttered  a 
piercing  yell,  and  darted  off  to  show  the  coin  to  a 
covey  of  small  ragamuffins  who  had  just  raced  into 
view  round  the  corner  at  which  the  public-house 
stood.  In  his  haste  he  dashed  against  one  of  the  group 
outside,  a  powerfully  built  young  man,  who  turned 
and  cursed  him.  The  boy  retorted  passionately,  and 
then,  overcome  by  pain,  began  to  cry.  When  Lydia 
came  up  the  child  stood  whimpering  directly  in  her 
path ;  and  she,  pitying  him,  patted  him  on  the  head 
and  reminded  him  of  all  the  money  he  had  to  spend. 
He  seemed  comforted,  and  scraped  his  eyes  with  his 
knuckles  in  silence;  but  the  man,  who,  having  re- 
ceived a  sharp  kick  on  the  ankle,  was  stung  by  Lydia's 
injustice  in  according  to  the  aggressor  the  sympathy 
due  to  himself,  walked  threateningly  up  to  her  and 
demanded,  with  a  startling  oath,  whether  he  had 
offered  to  do  anything  to  the  boy.  And,  as  he  re- 
frained from  applying  any  epithet  to  her,  he  honestly 
believed  that  in  deference  to  Lydia's  sex  and  personal 
charms,  he  had  expressed  himself  with  studied  moder- 
ation. She,  not  appreciating  his  forbearance,  recoiled, 
and  stepped  into  the  roadway  in  order  to  pass  him. 
Indignant  at  this  attempt  to  ignore  him,  he  again 
placed  himself  in  her  path,  and  was  repeating  his 
question  with  increased  sternness,  when  a  jerk  in 
the  pit  of  his  stomach  caused  him  a  severe  internal 
qualm,  besides  disturbing  his  equilibrium  so  rudely 
that  he  narrowly  escaped  a  fall  against  the  curb- 
stone. When  he  recovered  himself  he  saw  before 
11  161 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

him  a  showily  dressed  young  man,  who  accosted 
him  thus : 

"  Is  that  the  way  to  talk  to  a  lady,  eh  ?  Isn't  the 
street  wide  enough  for  two?  Where's  your  man- 
ners?" 

"And  who  are  you;  and  where  are  you  shoving 
your  elbow  to  ?  "  said  the  man,  with  a  surpassing  im- 
precation. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Cashel  Byron,  admonitorily. 
"  You'd  better  keep  your  mouth  clean  if  you  wish  to 
keep  your  teeth  inside  it.  Never  you  mind  who  I 
am." 

Lydia,  foreseeing  an  altercation,  and  alarmed  by 
the  threatening  aspect  of  the  man,  attempted  to  hurry 
away  and  send  a  policeman  to  Cashel's  assistance. 
But,  on  turning,  she  discovered  that  a  crowd  had 
already  gathered,  and  that  she  was  in  the  novel  posi- 
tion of  a  spectator  in  the  inner  ring  at  what  promised 
to  be  a  street  fight.  Her  attention  was  recalled  to  the 
disputants  by  a  violent  demonstration  on  the  part  of 
her  late  assailant.  Cashel  seemed  alarmed;  for  he 
hastily  retreated  a  step  without  regard  to  the  toes  of 
those  behind  him,  and  exclaimed,  waving  the  other 
off  with  his  open  hand, 

"  Now,  you  just  let  me  alone.  I  don't  want  to 
have  anything  to  say  to  you.  Go  away  from  me,  I  tell 
you." 

"You  don't  want  to  have  nothink  to  say  to  me  ! 
Oh  !  And  for  why  ?  Because  you  ain't  man  enough; 
that's  why.  Wot  do  you  mean  by  coming  and  shov- 
ing your  elbow  into  a  man's  bread-basket  for,  and  then 

162 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

wanting  to  sneak  off?  Did  you  think  I'd  'a'  bin 
frightened  of  your  velvet  coat  ?  " 

"Very  well,"  said  Cashel,  pacifically;  "we'll  say 
that  I'm  not  man  enough  for  you.  So  that's  settled. 
Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

But  the  other,  greatly  emboldened,  declared  with 
many  oaths  that  he  would  have  Cashel's  heart  out, 
and  also  that  of  Lydia,  to  whom  he  alluded  in  coarse 
terms.  The  crowd  cheered,  and  called  upon  him  to 
"go  it."     Cashel  then  said,  sullenly, 

"  Very  well.  But  don't  you  try  to  make  out  after- 
wards that  I  forced  a  quarrel  on  you.  And  now,"  he 
added,  with  a  grim  change  of  tone  that  made  Lydia 
shudder,  and  shifted  her  fears  to  the  account  of  his 
antagonist,  "I'll  make  you  wish  you'd  bit  your 
tongue  out  before  you  said  what  you  did  a  moment 
ago.     So,  take  care  of  yourself." 

"  Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  myself,"  said  the  man,  de- 
fiantly.    "  Put  up  your  hands." 

Cashel  surveyed  his  antagonist's  attitude  with  un- 
mistakable disparagement.  "  You  will  know  when 
my  hands  are  up  by  the  feel  of  the  pavement,"  he 
said,  at  last.  "  Better  keep  your  coat  on.  You'll  fall 
softer." 

The  rough  expressed  his  repudiation  of  this  counsel 
by  beginning  to  strip  energetically.  A  thrill  of  delight 
passed  through  the  crowd.  Those  who  had  bad  places 
pressed  forward,  and  those  who  formed  the  inner  ring 
pressed  back  to  make  room  for  the  combatants. 
Lydia,  who  occupied  a  coveted  position  close  to  Cashel, 
hoped  to  be  hustled  out  of  the  throng;  for  she  was 

163 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

beginning  to  feel  faint  and  ill.  But  a  handsome 
butcher,  who  had  made  his  way  to  her  side,  gallantly- 
swore  that  she  should  not  be  deprived  of  her  place  in 
the  front  row,  and  bade  her  not  be  frightened,  assur- 
ing h^r  that  he  would  protect  her,  and  that  the  fight 
would  be  well  worth  seeing.  As  he  spoke,  the  mass 
of  faces  before  Lydia  seemed  to  give  a  sudden  lurch. 
To  save  herself  from  •  falling,  she  slipped  her  arm 
through  the  butcher's;  and  he,  much  gratified,  tucked 
her  close  to  him,  and  held  her  up  effectually.  His 
support  was  welcome,  because  it  was  needed. 

Meanwhile,  Cashel  stood  motionless,  watching  with 
unrelenting  contempt  the  movements  of  his  adversary, 
who  rolled  up  his  discolored  shirt-sleeves  amid  encour- 
aging cries  of  "Go  it,  Teddy,"  "Give  it  'im,  Ted," 
and  other  more  precise  suggestions.  But  Teddy's 
spirit  was  chilled;  he  advanced  with  a  presentiment 
that  he  was  courting  destruction.  He  dared  not  rush 
on  his  foe,  whose  eye  seemed  to  discern  his  impotence. 
"When  at  last  he  ventured  to  strike,  the  blow  fell  short, 
as  Cashel  evidently  knew  it  would;  for  he  did  not 
stir.  There  was  a  laugh  and  a  murmur  of  impatience 
in  the  crowd. 

"Are  you  waiting  for  the  copper  to  come  and  sep- 
arate you?"  shouted  the  butcher.  "Come  out  of 
your  corner  and  get  to  work,  can't  you  ?  " 

This  reminder  that  the  police  might  balk  him  of 
his  prey  seemed  to  move  Cashel.  He  took  a  step  for- 
ward. The  excitement  of  the  crowd  rose  to  a  climax; 
and  a  little  man  near  Lydia  cut  a  frenzied  caper  and 
screamed,  "  Go  it,  Cashel  Byron." 

164 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

At  these  words  Teddy  was  terror-stricken.  He 
made  no  attempt  to  disguise  his  condition.  "  It  ain't 
fair,"  he  exclaimed,  retreating  as  far  as  the  crowd 
would  permit  him.  "I  give  in.  Cut  it,  master; 
you're  too  clever  for  me."  But  his  comrades,  with  a 
pitiless  jeer,  pushed  him  towards  Cashel,  who  ad- 
vanced remorselessly.  Teddy  dropped  on  hoth  knees. 
"  Wot  can  a  man  say  more  than  that  he's  had  enough  ?  " 
he  pleaded.  "Be  a  Englishman,  master;  and  don't 
hit  a  man  when  he's  down." 

"  Down  !  "  said  Cashel.  "  How  long  will  you  stay 
down  if  I  choose  to  have  you  up  ?  "  And,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  he  seized  Teddy  with  his  left  hand, 
lifted  him  to  his  feet,  threw  him  into  a  helpless  posi- 
tion across  his  knee,  and  poised  his  right  fist  like  a 
hammer  over  his  upturned  face.  "Now,"  he  said, 
"  you're  not  down.  What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself 
before  I  knock  your  face  down  your  throat  ?  " 

"  Don't  do  it,  gov'nor,"  gasped  Teddy.  "  I  didn't 
mean  no  harm.  How  was  I  to  know  that  the  young 
lady  was  a  pal  o'  yourn  ?  "  Here  he  struggled  a  little ; 
and  his  face  assumed  a  darker  hue.  "  Let  go,  master," 
he  cried,  almost  inarticulately.  ' *  You're  ch — chok- 
ing me." 

"  Pray  let  him  go,"  said  Lydia,  disengaging  herself 
from  the  butcher  and  catching  CashePs  arm. 

Cashel,  with  a  start,  relaxed  his  grasp;  and  Teddy 
rolled  on  the  ground.  He  went  away  thrusting  his 
hands  into  his  sleeves,  and  out-facing  his  disgrace  by 
a  callous  grin.  Cashel,  without  speaking,  offered 
Lydia  his  arm;  and  she,  seeing  that  her  best  course 

165 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

was  to  get  away  from  that  place  with  as  few  words  as 
possible,  accepted  it,  and  then  turned  and  thanked 
the  butcher,  who  blushed  and  became  speechless.  The 
little  man  whose  exclamation  had  interrupted  the 
combat,  now  waved  his  hat,  and  cried, 

"The  British  Lion  forever!  Three  cheers  for 
Cashel  Byron." 

Cashel  turned  upon  him  curtly,  and  said,  "  Don't 
you  make  so  free  with  other  people's  names,  or  per- 
haps you  may  get  into  trouble  yourself." 

The  little  man  retreated  hastily;  but  the  crowd 
responded  with  three  cheers  as  Cashel,  with  Lydia  on 
his  arm,  withdrew  through  a  lane  of  disreputable- 
looking  girls,  roughs  of  Teddy's  class,  white-aproned 
shopmen  who  had  left  their  counters  to  see  the  fight, 
and  a  few  pale  clerks,  who  looked  with  awe  at  the 
prize-fighter,  and  with  wonder  at  the  refined  appear- 
ance of  his  companion.  The  two  were  followed  by  a 
double  file  of  boys,  who,  with  their  eyes  fixed  ear- 
nestly on  Cashel,  walked  on  the  footways  while  he  con- 
ducted Lydia  down  the  middle  of  the  narrow  street. 
Not  one  of  them  turned  a  somersault  or  uttered  a 
shout.  Intent  on  their  hero,  they  pattered  along, 
coming  into  collision  with  every  object  that  lay  in 
their  path.  At  last  Cashel  stopped.  They  instantly 
stopped  too.  He  took  some  bronze  coin  from  his 
pocket,  rattled  it  in  his  hand,  and  addressed  them. 

"Boys!"  Dead  silence.  "Do  you  know  what  I 
have  to  do  to  keep  up  my  strength  ?  ' '  The  hitherto 
steadfast  eyes  wandered  uneasily.  "I  have  to  eat  a 
little  boy  for  supper  every  night,  the  last  thing  before 

166 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

going  to  bed.  Now,  I  haven't  quite  made  up  my 
mind  which  of  you  would  be  the  most  to  my  taste; 
but  if  one  of  you  comes  a  step  further,  I'll  eat  Mm. 
So,  away  with  you."  And  he  jerked  the  coin  to  a 
considerable  distance.  There  was  a  yell  and  a  scram- 
ble; and  Cashel  and  Lydia  pursued  their  way  unat- 
tended. 

Lydia  had  taken  advantage  of  the  dispersion  of  the 
boys  to  detach  herself  from  Cashel's  arm.  She  now 
said,  speaking  to  him  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 
interceded  for  Teddy, 

"lam  sorry  to  have  given  you  so  much  trouble,  Mr. 
Cashel  Byron.  Thank  you  for  interfering  to  protect 
me;  but  I  was  in  no  real  danger.  I  would  gladly  have 
borne  with  a  few  rough  words  for  the  sake  of  avoiding 
a  disturbance." 

"There!"  cried  Cashel.  "I  knew  it.  You'd  a 
deal  rather  I  had  minded  my  own  business  and  not 
interfered.  You're  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow  I  treated 
so  badly;  ain't  you  now  ?     That's  a  woman  all  over." 

"  I  have  not  said  one  of  these  things." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  what  else  you  mean.  It's  no 
pleasure  to  me  to  fight  chance  men  in  the  streets  for 
nothing :  I  don't  get  my  living  that  way.  And  now 
that  I  have  done  it  for  your  sake,  you  as  good  as  tell 
me  I  ought  to  have  kept  myself  quiet." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  wrong.  I  hardly  understand  what 
passed.     You  seemed  to  drop  from  the  clouds." 

"  Aha  !  You  were  glad  when  you  found  me  at 
your  elbow,  in  spite  of  your  talk.  Come  now;  weren't 
you  glad  to  see  me?" 

167 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  was — very  glad  indeed.  But  by  what  magic 
did  you  so  suddenly  subdue  that  man?  And  was 
it  necessary  to  sully  your  hands  by  throttling 
him?" 

"It  was  a  satisfaction  to  me;  and  it  served  him 
right." 

"  Surely  a  very  poor  satisfaction  !  Did  you  notice 
that  some  one  in  the  crowd  called  out  your  name,  and 
that  it  seemed  to  frighten  the  man  terribly  ?  " 

"  Indeed?  Odd,  wasn't  it?  But  you  were  saying 
that  you  thought  I  dropped  from  the  sky.  Why,  I 
had  been  following  you  for  five  minutes  before  ! 
What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  If  I  may  take  the  lib- 
erty of  asking,  how  did  you  come  to  be  walking 
round  Soho  at  such  an  hour  with  a  little  ragged 
boy?" 

Lydia  explained.  When  she  finished,  it  was  nearly 
dark,  and  they  had  reached  Oxford  Street,  where,  like 
Lucian  in  Regent's  Park  that  afternoon,  she  became 
conscious  that  her  companion  was  an  object  of  curiosity 
to  many  of  the  young  men  who  were  lounging  in  that 
thoroughfare. 

"Alice  will  think  that  I  am  lost,"  she  said,  mak- 
ing a  signal  to  a  cabman.  "Good-bye;  and  many 
thanks.  I  am  always  at  home  on  Fridays,  and  shall 
be  very  happy  to  see  you." 

She  handed  him  a  card.  He  took  it,  read  it,  looked 
at  the  back  to  see  if  there  was  anything  written  there, 
and  then  said,  dubiously, 

"  I  suppose  there  will  be  a  lot  of  people." 

"  Yes;  you  will  meet  plenty  of  people." 
168 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Hm  !  I  wish  you'd  let  me  see  you  home  now.  I 
won't  ask  to  go  any  further  than  the  gate." 

Lydia  laughed.  "  You  should  be  very  welcome/ ■ 
she  said;  "but  I  am  quite  safe,  thank  you.  I  need 
not  trouble  you." 

"But  suppose  the  cabman  bullies  you  for  double 
fare,"  persisted  Cashel.  "I  have  business  up  in 
Finchley;  and  your  place  is  right  in  my  way  there. 
Upon  my  soul  I  have,"  he  added,  suspecting  that  she 
doubted  him.  "  I  go  every  Tuesday  evening  to  the 
St.  John's  Wood  Cestus  Club." 

"  I  am  hungry  and  in  a  hurry  to  get  home,"  said 
Lydia.  "  '  I  must  be  gone  and  live,  or  stay  and  die.' 
Come  if  you  will;  but  in  any  case  let  us  go  at 
once." 

She  got  into  the  cab,  and  Cashel  followed,  making 
some  remark  which  she  did  not  quite  catch  about  its 
being  too  dark  for  any  one  to  recognize  him.  They 
spoke  little  during  the  drive,  which  was  soon  over. 
Bashville  was  standing  at  the  open  door  as  they  came 
to  the  house.  When  Cashel  got  out  the  footman 
looked  at  him  with  interest  and  some  surprise.  But 
when  Lydia  alighted  he  was  so  startled  that  he  stood 
open-mouthed,  although  he  was  trained  to  simulate 
insensibility  to  everything  except  his  own  business, 
and  to  do  that  as  automatically  as  possible.  Cashel 
bade  Lydia  good-bye,  and  shook  hands  with  her.  As 
she  went  into  the  house,  she  asked  Bashville  whether 
Miss  Goff  was  within.  To  her  surprise,  he  paid  no 
attention  to  her,  but  stared  after  the  retreating  cab. 
She  repeated  the  question. 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  recovering  himself  with  a  start, 
"  she  has  asked  for  you  four  times." 

Lydia,  relieved  of  a  disagreeable  suspicion  that  her 
usually  faultless  footman  must  be  drunk,  thanked  him 
and  went  up-stairs. 


170 


CHAPTER  VIII 

One  morning  a  handsome  young  man,  elegantly 
dressed,  presented  himself  at  Downing  Street,  and 
asked  to  see  Mr.  Lucian  Webber.  He  declined  to 
send  in  a  card,  and  desired  to  be  announced  simply  as 
"  Bashville."  Lucian  ordered  him  to  be  admitted  at 
once,  and,  when  he  entered,  nodded  affably  to  him 
and  invited  him  to  sit  down. 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Bashville,  seating  himself. 
It  struck  Lucian  then,  from  a  certain  strung-up  reso- 
lution in  his  visitor's  manner,  that  he  had  come  on 
some  business  of  his  own,  and  not,  as  he  had  taken  for 
granted,  with  a  message  from  his  mistress. 

"I  have  come,  sir,  on  my  own  responsibility  this 
morning.     I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  liberty." 

"  Certainly.  If  I  can  do  anything  for  you,  Bash- 
ville, don't  be  afraid  to  ask.  But  be  as  brief  as  you 
can.  I  am  so  busy  that  every  second  I  give  you  will 
probably  be  subtracted  from  my  night's  rest.  Will 
ten  minutes  be  enough  ?  " 

"  More  than  enough,  sir,  thank  you.  I  only  wish 
to  ask  one  question.  I  own  that  I  am  stepping  out  of 
my  place  to  ask  it;  but  I'll  risk  all  that.  Does  Miss 
Carew  know  what  the  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  is  that  she 
receives  every  Friday  with  her  other  friends? " 

"  No  doubt  she  does,"  said  Lucian,  at  once  becom- 
171 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ing  cold  in  his  manner,  and  looking  severely  at  Bash- 
ville.     "  What  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  " 

"Do  you  know  what  he  is,  sir?"  said  Bashville, 
returning  Lucian's  gaze  steadily. 

Lucian  changed  countenance,  and  replaced  a  pen 
that  had  slipped  from  a  rack  on  his  desk.  "He  is 
not  an  acquaintance  of  mine,"  he  said.  "  I  only  know 
him  as  a  friend  of  Lord  Worth ington's." 

"  Sir,"  said  Bashville,  with  sudden  vehemence,  "  he 
is  no  more  to  Lord  Worthington  than  the  racehorse 
his  lordship  bets  on.  /  might  as  well  set  up  to  be  a 
friend  of  his  lordship  because  I,  after  a  manner  of 
speaking,  know  him.  Byron  is  in  the  ring,  sir.  A 
common  prize-fighter  ! " 

Lucian,  recalling  what  had  passed  at  Mrs.  Hoskyn's, 
and  Lord  Worthington's  sporting  habits,  believed  the 
assertion  at  once.  But  he  made  a  faint  effort  to  resist 
conviction.  "Are  you  sure  of  this,  Bashville?"  he 
said.  "  Do  you  know  that  your  statement  is  a  very 
serious  one  ?  " 

"There  is  no  doubt  at  all  about  it,  sir.  Go  to 
any  sporting  public-house  in  London  and  ask  who  is 
the  best-known  fighting  man  of  the  day,  and  they'll 
tell  you,  Cashel  Byron.  I  know  all  about  him,  sir. 
Perhaps  you  have  heard  tell  of  Ned  Skene,  who  was 
champion,  belike,  when  you  were  at  school." 

"  I  believe  I  have  heard  the  name." 

"  Just  so,  sir.  Ned  Skene  picked  up  this  Cashel 
Byron  in  the  streets  of  Melbourne,  where  he  was  a 
common  sailor-boy,  and  trained  him  for  the  ring. 
You  may  have  seen  his  name  in  the  papers,  sir.     The 

172 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

sporting  ones  are  full  of  him;  and  he  was  mentioned 
in  the  Times  a  month  ago." 

"I  never  read  articles  on  such  subjects.  I  have 
hardly  time  to  glance  through  the  ones  that  concern 
me." 

"  That's  the  way  it  is  with  everybody,  sir.  Miss 
Carew  never  thinks  of  reading  the  sporting  intelli- 
gence in  the  papers;  and  so  he  passes  himself  off  on 
her  for  her  equal.  He's  well  known  for  his  wish  to 
be  thought  a  gentleman,  sir,  I  assure  you." 

"I  have  noticed  his  manner  as  being  odd,  cer- 
tainly." 

"  Odd,  sir  !  Why,  a  child  might  see  through  him; 
for  he  has  not  the  sense  to  keep  his  own  secret.  Last 
Friday  he  was  in  the  library,  and  he  got  looking  at  the 
new  biographical  dictionary  that  Miss  Carew  contrib- 
uted the  article  on  Spinoza  to.  And  what  do  you 
think  he  said,  sir  ?  '  This  is  a  blessed  book,'  he  says. 
'  Here's  ten  pages  about  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  not 
one  about  Jack  Randall;  as  if  one  fighting  man  wasn't 
as  good  as  another  ! '  I  knew  by  the  way  the  mistress 
took  up  that  saying,  and  drew  him  out,  so  to  speak,  on 
the  subject,  that  she  didn't  know  who  she  had  in  her 
house;  and  then  I  determined  to  tell  you,  sir.  I  hope 
you  won't  think  that  I  come  here  behind  his  back  out 
of  malice  against  him.  All  I  want  is  fair  play.  If 
I  passed  myself  off  on  Miss  Carew  as  a  gentleman,  I 
should  deserve  to  be  exposed  as  a  cheat;  and  when 
he  tries  to  take  advantages  that  don't  belong  to  him, 
I  think  I  have  a  right  to  expose  him." 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right,"  said  Lucian,  who  cared 
173 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

nothing  for  Bashville's  motives.  "I  suppose  this 
Byron  is  a  dangerous  man  to  have  any  personal  un- 
pleasantness with." 

"  He  knows  his  business,  sir.  I  am  a  better  judge 
of  wrestling  than  half  of  these  London  professionals; 
but  I  never  saw  the  man  that  could  put  a  hug  on  him. 
Simple  as  he  is,  sir,  he  has  a  genius  for  fighting,  and 
has  beaten  men  of  all  sizes,  weights,  and  colors. 
There's  a  new  man  from  the  black  country,  named 
Paradise,  who  says  he'll  beat  him;  but  I  won't  believe 
it  till  I  see  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Lucian,  rising,  "lam  much  indebted 
to  you,  Bashville,  for  your  information;  and  I  will 
take  care  to  let  Miss  Carew  know  how  you  have — " 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Bashville;  "  but, 
if  you  please,  no.  I  did  not  come  to  recommend  myself 
at  the  cost  of  another  man;  and  perhaps  Miss  Carew 
might  not  think  it  any  great  recommendation  neither." 
Lucian  looked  quickly  at  him,  and  seemed  about  to 
speak,  but  checked  himself.  Bashville  continued, 
"  If  he  denies  it,  you  may  call  me  as  a  witness,  and  I 
will  tell  him  to  his  face  that  he  lies — and  so  I  would  if 
he  were  twice  as  dangerous;  but,  except  in  that  way, 
I  would  ask  you,  sir,  as  a  favor,  not  to  mention  my 
name  to  Miss  Carew." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Lucian,  taking  out  his  purse. 
"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  However,  you  shall  not  have 
your  trouble  for  nothing." 

"I  couldn't?  really,  sir,"  said  Bashville,  retreating 
a  step.  "  You  will  agree  with  me,  I'm  sure,  that 
this  is  not  a  thing  th:  '.  a  man  should  take  payment 

174 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

for.  It  is  a  personal  matter  between  me  and  Byron, 
sir." 

Lucian,  displeased  that  a  servant  should  have  any 
personal  feelings  on  any  subject,  much  more  one  that 
concerned  his  mistress,  put  back  his  purse  without 
comment  and  said,  "Will  Miss  Carew  be  at  home 
this  afternoon  between  three  and  four  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  heard  of  any  arrangement  to  the  con- 
trary, sir.  I  will  telegraph  to  you  if  she  goes  out — if 
you  wish." 

"It  does  not  matter.  Thank  you.  Good-morn- 
ing." 

"Good-morning,  sir,"  said  Bashville,  respectfully, 
as  he  withdrew.  Outside  the  door  his  manner 
♦  hanged.  He  put  on  a  pair  of  primrose  gloves, 
i  >ok  up  a  silver-mounted  walking-stick  that  he  had 
±ef t  in  the  corridor,  and  walked  from  Downing  Street 
into  Whitehall.  A  party  of  visitors  from  the  country, 
who  were  standing  there  examining  the  buildings, 
guessed  that  he  was  a  junior  lord  of  the  Treasury. 

He  waited  in  vain  that  afternoon  for  Lucian  to  ap- 
pear at  the  house  in  Eegent's  Park.  There  were  no 
callers,  and  he  wore  away  the  time  by  endeavoring, 
with  the  aid  of  a  library  that  Miss  Carew  had  placed 
at  the  disposal  of  her  domestics,  to  unravel  the  phil- 
osophy of  Spinoza.  At  the  end  of  an  hour,  feeling 
satisfied  that  he  had  mastered  that  author's  views,  he 
proceeded  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the  long  summer's 
day  by  polishing  Lydia's  plate. 

Meanwhile,  Lucian  was  considering  how  he  could 
best  make  Lydia  not  only  reputffcate  Cashel's  acquaint- 

175 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ance,  but  feel  thoroughly  ashamed  of  herself  for  hav- 
ing encouraged  him,  and  wholesomely  mistrustful  of 
her  own  judgment  for  the  future.  His  parliamentary 
experience  had  taught  him  to  provide  himself  with  a 
few  well-arranged,  relevant  facts  before  attempting  to 
influence  the  opinions  of  others  on  any  subject.  He 
knew  no  more  of  prize-fighting  than  that  it  was  a 
brutal  and  illegal  practice,  akin  to  cock-fighting, 
and,  like  it,  generally  supposed  to  be  obsolete.  Know- 
ing how  prone  Lydia  was  to  suspect  any  received  opin- 
ion of  being  a  prejudice,  he  felt  that  he  must  inform 
himself  more  particularly.  To  Lord  Worthington's 
astonishment,  he  not  only  asked  him  to  dinner  next 
evening,  but  listened  with  interest  while  he  descanted 
to  his  heart's  content  on  his  favorite  topic  of  the  vm§ 

As  the  days  passed,  Bashville  became  nervous,  an«l 
sometimes  wondered  whether  Lydia  had  met  hei 
cousin  and  heard  from  him  of  the  interview  at  Down- 
ing Street.  He  fancied  that  her  manner  towards  him 
was  changed;  and  he  was  once  or  twice  on  the  point 
of  asking  the  most  sympathetic  of  the  housemaids 
whether  she  had  noticed  it.  On  Wednesday  his 
suspense  ended.  Lucian  came,  and  had  a  long  con- 
versation with  Lydia  in  the  library.  Bashville  was 
too  honorable  to  listen  at  the  door;  but  he  felt  a 
strong  temptation  to  do  so,  and  almost  hoped  that 
the  sympathetic  housemaid  might  prove  less  scru- 
pulous. But  Miss  Carew's  influence  extended  farther 
than  her  bodily  presence;  and  Lucian's  revelation  was 
made  in  complete  privacy. 

When  he  entered  the  library  he  looked  so  serious 
176 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

that  she  asked  him  whether  he  had  neuralgia,  from 
which  he  occasionally  suffered.  He  replied  with  some 
indignation  that  he  had  not,  and  that  he  had  a  com- 
munication of  importance  to  make  to  her. 

"What!     Another!" 

"Yes,  another,"  he  said,  with  a  sour  smile;  "but 
this  time  it  does  not  concern  myself.  May  I  warn 
you  as  to  the  character  of  one  of  your  guests  without 
overstepping  my  privilege  ?  " 

"Certainly.  But  perhaps  you  mean  Vernet.  If 
so,  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  he  is  an  exiled  Commu- 
nard." 

M  I  do  not  mean  Monsieur  Vernet.  You  under- 
stand, I  hope,  that  I  do  not  approve  of  him,  nor  of 
your  strange  fancy  for  Nihilists,  Fenians,  and  other 
doubtful  persons;  but  I  think  that  even  you  might 
draw  the  line  at  a  prize-fighter." 

Lydialost  color,  and  said,  almost  inaudibly,"  Cashel 
Byron!" 

"  Then  you  knew  !  "  exclaimed  Lucian,  scandalized. 

Lydia  waited  a  moment  to  recover,  settled  herself 
quietly  in  her  chair,  and  replied,  calmly,  "I  know 
what  you  tell  me — nothing  more.  And  now,  will  you 
explain  to  me  exactly  what  a  prize-fighter  is?" 

"He  is  simply  what  his  name  indicates.  He  is  a 
man  who  fights  for  prizes." 

"  So  does  the  captain  of  a  man-of-war.  And  yet 
society  does  not  place  them  in  the  same  class — at  least, 
I  do  not  think  so." 

"  As  if  there  could  be  any  doubt  that  society  does 
not !  There  is  no  analogy  whatever  between  the  two 
12  177 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

cases.  Let  me  endeavor  to  open  your  eyes  a  little,  if 
that  be  possible,  which  I  am  sometimes  tempted  to 
doubt.  A  prize-fighter  is  usually  a  man  of  naturally 
ferocious  disposition,  who  has  acquired  some  reputa- 
tion among  his  associates  as  a  bully;  and  who,  by  con- 
stantly quarrelling,  has  acquired  some  practice  in 
fighting.  On  the  strength  of  this  reputation  he  can 
generally  find  some  gambler  willing  to  stake  a  sum  of 
money  that  he  will  vanquish  a  pugilist  of  established 
fame  in  single  combat.  Bets  are  made  between  the 
admirers  of  the  two  men;  a  prize  is  subscribed  for, 
each  party  contributing  a  share;  the  combatants  are 
trained  as  racehorses,  gamecocks,  or  their  like  are 
trained ;  they  meet,  and  beat  each  other  as  savagely  as 
they  can  until  one  or  the  other  is  too  much  injured  to 
continue  the  combat.  This  takes  place  in  the  midst 
of  a  mob  of  such  persons  as  enjoy  spectacles  of  the 
kind;  that  is  to  say,  the  vilest  blackguards  whom  a 
large  city  can  afford  to  leave  at  large,  and  many  whom 
it  cannot.  As  the  prize-money  contributed  by  each 
side  often  amounts  to  upwards  of  a  thousand  pounds, 
and  as  a  successful  pugilist  commands  far  higher 
terms  for  giving  tuition  in  boxing  than  a  tutor  at  one 
of  the  universities  does  for  coaching,  you  will  see  that 
such  a  man,  while  his  youth  and  luck  last,  may  have 
plenty  of  money,  and  may  even,  by  aping  the  manners 
of  the  gentlemen  whom  he  teaches,  deceive  careless 
people — especially  those  who  admire  eccentricity — as 
to  his  character  and  position." 

"  What  is  his  true  position  ?    I  mean  before  he  be- 
comes a  prize-fighter." 

178 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Well,  he  may  be  a  handicraftsman  of  some  kind : 
a  journeyman  butcher,  skinner,  tailor,  or  baker.  Pos- 
sibly a  soldier,  sailor,  policeman,  gentleman's  servant, 
or  what  not  ?  But  he  is  generally  a  common  laborer. 
The  waterside  is  prolific  of  such  heroes." 

"  Do  they  never  come  from  a  higher  rank  ?  " 

"Never  even  from  the  better  classes  in  their  own. 
Broken-down  gentlemen  are  not,  likely  to  succeed  at 
work  that  needs  the  strength  and  endurance  of  a  bull 
and  the  cruelty  of  a  butcher." 

"And  the  end  of  a  prize-fighter.  What  is  that 
like?" 

"  He  soon  has  to  give  up  his  trade.  For,  if  he  be 
repeatedly  beaten,  no  one  will  either  bet  on  him  or 
subscribe  to  provide  him  with  a  stake.  If  he  is  inva- 
riably successful,  those,  if  any,  who  dare  fight  him 
find  themselves  in  a  like  predicament.  In  either  case 
his  occupation  is  gone.  If  he  has  saved  money  he 
opens  a  sporting  public-house,  where  he  sells  spirits  of 
the  worst  description  to  his  old  rivals  and  their  asso- 
ciates, and  eventually  drinks  himself  to  death  or  bank- 
ruptcy. If,  however,  he  has  been  improvident  or 
unfortunate,  he  begs  from  his  former  patrons  and 
gives  lessons.  Finally,  when  the  patrons  are  tired  of 
him  and  the  pupils  fail,  he  relapses  into  the  laboring 
class  with  a  ruined  constitution,  a  disfigured  face,  a 
brutalized  nature,  and  a  tarnished  reputation." 

Lydia  remained  silent  so  long  after  this  that  Lu- 
cian's  expression  of  magisterial  severity  first  deepened, 
then  wavered,  and  finally  gave  way  to  a  sense  of  in- 
jury; for  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  him.     He  was 

179 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

about  to  protest  against  this  treatment,  when  she 
looked  at  him  again,  and  said, 

"  Why  did  Lord  Worthington  introduce  a  man  of 
this  class  to  me  ?  "  tL 

"Because  you  asked  him  to  do  so.  Probably  he 
thought  that  if  you  chose  to  make  such  a  request  with- 
out previous  inquiry,  you  should  not  blame  him  if  you 
found  yourself  saddled  with  an  undesirable  acquaint- 
ance. Recollect  that  you  asked  for  the  introduction 
on  the  platform  at  Wiltstoken,  in  the  presence  of  the 
man  himself.  Such  a  ruffian  would  be  capable  of 
making  a  disturbance  for  much  less  offence  than  an 
explanation  and  refusal  would  have  given  him.', 

"Lucian,"  said  Iydia,  in  a  tone  of  gentle  admoni- 
tion, "  I  asked  to  be  introduced  to  my  tenant,  for 
whose  respectability  you  had  vouched  by  letting  the 
"Warren  Lodge  to  him.,,  Lucian  reddened.  "How 
does  Lord  Worthington  explain  Mr.  Byron's  appear- 
ance at  Mrs.  Hoskyn's?  " 

"  It  was  a  stupid  joke.  Mrs.  Hoskyn  had  worried 
Worthington  to  bring  some  celebrity  to  her  house; 
and,  in  revenge,  he  took  his  pugilistic  protege." 

"Hm!" 

"  I  do  not  defend  Worthington.  But  discretion  is 
hardly  to  be  expected  from  him." 

"  He  has  discretion  enough  to  understand  a  case  of 
this  kind  thoroughly.  But  let  that  pass.  I  have  been 
thinking  upon  what  you  tell  me  about  these  singular 
people,  whose  existence  I  hardly  knew  of  before. 
Now,  Lucian,  in  the  course  of  my  reading  I  have 
come  upon  denunciations  of  every  race  and  pursuit 

180 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

under  the  sun.  Very  respectable  and  well-informed 
men  have  held  that  Jews,  Irishmen,  Christians,  athe- 
ists, lawyers,  doctors,  politicians,  actors,  artists,  flesh- 
eaters,  and  spirit-drinkers  are  all  of  necessity  degraded 
beings.  Such  statements  can  be  easily  proved  by 
taking  a  black  sheep  from  each  flock,  and  holding  him 
up  as  the  type.  It  is  more  reasonable  to  argue  a  man's 
character  from  the  nature  of  his  profession;  and  yet 
even  that  is  very  unsafe.  War  is  a  cruel  business;  but 
soldiers  are  not  necessarily  bloodthirsty  and  inhuman 
men.  I  am  not  quite  satisfied  that  a  prize-fighter  is 
a  violent  and  dangerous  man  because  he  follows  a  vio- 
lent and  dangerous  profession — I  suppose  they  call  it 
a  profession."  i 

Lucian  was  about  to  speak ;  but  she  interrupted  him 
by  continuing, 

"  And  yet  that  is  not  what  concerns  me  at  present. 
Have  you  found  out  anything  about  Mr.  Byron  person- 
ally ?    Is  he  an  ordinary  representative  of  his  class  ?  " 

"  No;  I  should  rather  think — and  hope — that  he  is 
a  very  extraordinary  representative  of  it.  I  have  traced 
his  history  back  to  his  boyhood,  when  he  was  a  cabin- 
boy.  Having  apparently  failed  to  recommend  himself 
to  his  employers  in  that  capacity,  he  became  errand- 
boy  to  a  sort  of  maitre  d'armes  at  Melbourne.  Here 
he  discovered  where  his  genius  lay;  and  he  presently 
appeared  in  the  ring  with  an  unfortunate  young  man 
named  Ducket,  whose  jaw  he  fractured.  This  laid 
the  foundation  of  his  fame.  He  fought  several  battles 
with  unvarying  success;  but  at  last  he  allowed  his 
valor  to  get  the  better  of  his  discretion  bo  far  as  to  kill 

181 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

an  Englishman  who  contended  with  him  with  desper- 
ate obstinacy  for  two  hours.  I  am  informed  that  the 
particular  blow  by  which  he  felled  the  poor  wretch  for 
the  last  time  is  known  in  pugilistic  circles  as  '  Cash  el's 
killer,'  and  that  he  has  attempted  to  repeat  it  in  all 
his  subsequent  encounters,  without,  however,  achiev- 
ing the  same  fatal  result.  The  failure  has  doubtless 
been  a  severe  disappointment  to  him.  He  fled  from 
Australia  and  reappeared  in  America,  where  he  re- 
sumed his  victorious  career,  distinguishing  himself 
specially  by  throwing  a  gigantic  opponent  in  some 
dreadful  fashion  that  these  men  have,  and  laming  him 
for  life.     He  then—" 

"Thank  you,  Lucian,"  said  Lydia  rather  faintly. 
"  That  is  quite  enough.  Are  you  sure  that  it  is  all 
true?" 

' l  My  authority  is  Lord  Worth  ington,  and  a  number 
of  newspaper  reports  which  he  showed  me.  Byron 
himself  will  probably  be  proud  to  give  you  the  fullest 
confirmation  of  the  record.  I  should  add,  in  justice 
to  him,  that  he  is  looked  upon  as  a  model — to  pugil- 
ists— of  temperance  and  general  good  conduct." 

"  Do  you  remember  my  remarking  a  few  days  ago, 
on  another  subject,  how  meaningless  our  observations 
are  until  we  are  given  the  right  thread  to  string  them 
on?" 

"Yes,"  said  Webber,  disconcerted  by  the  allusion. 

"  My  acquaintance  with  this  man  is  a  case  in  point. 
He  has  obtruded  his  horrible  profession  upon  me 
every  time  we  have  met.  I  have  actually  seen  him 
publicly  cheered  as  a  pugilist-hero;  and  yet,  bein^  off 

182 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  track,  and  ignorant  of  the  very  existence  of  such  a 
calling,  I  have  looked  on  and  seen  no  thing.' ' 

Lydia  then  narrated  her  adventure  in  Soho,  and 
listened  with  the  perfect  patience  of  indifference  to 
his  censure  of  her  imprudence  in  going  there  alone. 

"And  now,  Lydia,"  he  added,  "may  I  ask  what 
you  intend  to  do  in  this  matter  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"  Drop  his  acquaintance  at  once.  Forbid  him  your 
house  in  the  most  explicit  terms." 

"  A  pleasant  task  !  "  said  Lydia,  ironically.  "  But 
I  will  do  it — not  so  much,  perhaps,  because  he  is  a 
prize-fighter,  as  because  he  is  an  impostor.  Now  go 
to  the  writing-table  and  draft  me  a  proper  letter  to 
send  him." 

Lucian's  face  elongated.  "I  think,"  he  said, 
"  you  can  do  that  better  for  yourself.  It  is  a  delicate 
sort  of  thing." 

"  Yes.  It  is  not  so  easy  as  you  implied  a  moment 
ago.  Otherwise  I  should  not  require  your  assistance. 
As  it  is — "     She  pointed  again  to  the  table. 

Lucian  was  not  ready  with  an  excuse.  He  sat  down 
reluctantly,  and,  after  some  consideration,  indited  the 
following: 

"Miss  Carew  presents  her  compliments  to  Mr. 
Cashel  Byron,  and  begs  to  inform  him  that  she  will 
not  be  at  home  during  the  remainder  of  the  season  as 
heretofore.  She  therefore  regrets  that  she  cannot 
have  the  pleasure  of  receiving  him  on  Friday  after- 


183 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  I  think  you  will  find  that  sufficient,"  said  Lucian. 

"Probably,"  said  Lydia,  smiling  as  she  read  it. 
"But  what  shall  I  do  if  he  takes  offence;  calls  here, 
breaks  the  windows,  and  beats  Bashville  ?  Were  I  in 
his  place,  that  is  what  such  a  letter  would  provoke 
me  to  do." 

"  He  dare  not  give  any  trouble.  But  I  will  warn 
the  police  if  you  feel  anxious." 

"  By  no  means.  We  must  not  show  ourselves  infe- 
rior to  him  in  courage,  which  is,  I  suppose,  his  cardinal 
virtue." 

"  If  you  write  the  note  now,  I  will  post  it  for  you." 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  will  send  it  with  my  other 
letters." 

Lucian  would  rather  have  waited;  but  she  would 
not  write  while  he  was  there.  So  he  left,  satisfied  on 
the  whole  with  the  success  of  his  mission.  When  he 
was  gone,  she  took  a  pen,  endorsed  his  draft  neatly, 
placed  it  in  a  drawer,  and  wrote  to  Cashel  thus : 

"Dear  Mr.  Cashel  Byron, — I  have  just  discovered 
your  secret.  I  am  sorry;  but  you  must  not  come 
again.    Farewell.         Yours  faithfully, 

"  Lydia  Carew." 

Lydia  kept  this  note  by  her  until  next  morning, 
when  she  read  it  through  carefully.  She  then  sent 
Bashville  to  the  post  with  it. 


184 


CHAPTER  IX 

Cashel's  pupils  frequently  requested  him  to  hit 
them  hard— not  to  play  with  them — to  accustom  them 
to  regular,  right  down,  severe  hitting,  and  no  non- 
sense. He  only  pretended  to  comply;  for  he  knew 
that  a  black  eye  or  loosened  tooth  would  be  immoder- 
ately boasted  of  if  received  in  combat  with  a  famous 
pugilist,  and  that  the  sufferer's  friends  would  make 
private  notes  to  avoid  so  rough  a  professor.  But  when 
Miss  Carew's  note  reached  him  he  made  an  exception 
to  his  practice  in  this  respect.  A  young  guardsman, 
whose  lesson  began  shortly  after  the  post  arrived,  re- 
marked that  Cashel  was  unusually  distraught.  He 
therefore  exhorted  his  instructor  to  wake  up  and  pitch 
into  him  in  earnest.  Immediately  he  received  a  blow 
in  the  epigastrium  that  stretched  him  almost  insensible 
on  the  floor.  Rising  with  his  complexion  considerably 
whitened,  he  recollected  an  appointment  which  would 
prevent  him  from  finishing  his  lesson,  and  withdrew, 
declaring  in  a  somewhat  shaky  voice  that  that  was  the 
sort  of  bout  he  really  enjoyed. 

Cashel  did  not  at  first  make  any  profitable  use  of 
the  leisure  thus  earned.  He  walked  to  and  fro,  curs- 
ing, and  occasionally  stopping  to  read  the  letter.  His 
restlessness  only  increased  his  agitation.  The  arrival 
\f  a  Frenchman  whom  he  employed  to  give  lessons  in 

185 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

fencing  made  the  place  unendurable  to  him.  He 
changed  his  attire,  went  out,  called  a  cab,  and  bade 
the  driver,  with  an  oath,  drive  to  Lydia's  house  as  fast 
as  the  horse  could  go.  The  man  made  all  the  haste 
he  could,  and  was  presently  told  impatiently  that 
there  was  no  hurry.  Accustomed  to  this  sort  of  incon- 
sistency, he  was  not  surprised  when,  as  they  approached 
the  house,  he  was  told  not  to  stop  but  to  drive  slowly 
past.  Then,  in  obedience  to  further  instructions,  he 
turned  and  repassed  the  door.  As  he  did  so  a  lady 
appeared  for  an  instant  at  a  window.  Immediately 
his  fare,  with  a  groan  of  mingled  rage  and  fear,  sprang 
from  the  moving  vehicle,  rushed  up  the  steps  of  the 
mansion,  and  rang  the  bell  violently.  Bashville, 
faultlessly  dressed  and  impassibly  mannered,  opened 
the  door.  In  reply  to  CashePs  half -inarticulate  in- 
quiry, he  said, 

"  Miss  Carew  is  not  at  home." 

"You  lie,"  said  Cashel,  his  eyes  suddenly  dilating. 
"I  saw  her." 

Bashville  reddened,  but  replied,  coolly,  "  Miss  Carew 
cannot  see  you  to-day." 

"  Go  and  ask  her,"  returned  Cashel  sternly,  ad- 
vancing. 

Bashville,  with  compressed  lips,  seized  the  door  to 
shut  him  out;  but  Cashel  forced  it  back  against  him, 
sent  him  reeling  some  paces  by  its  impact,  went  in, 
and  shut  the  door  behind  him.  He  had  to  turn  from 
Bashville  for  a  moment  to  do  this,  and  before  he  could 
face  him  again  he  was  clutched,  tripped,  and  flung 
down  upon  the  tessellated   pavement  of    the    hall. 

186 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

When  Cashel  gave  him  the  lie,  and  pushed  the  door 
against  him,  the  excitement  he  had  been  suppressing 
since  his  visit  to  Lucian  exploded.  He  had  thrown 
Cashel  in  Cornish  fashion,  and  now  desperately 
awaited  the  upshot. 

Cashel  got  up  so  rapidly  that  he  seemed  to  rebound 
from  the  flags.  Bashville,  involuntarily  cowering 
hefore  his  onslaught,  just  escaped  his  right  fist,  and 
felt  as  though  his  heart  had  been  drawn  with  it  as  it 
whizzed  past  his  ear.  He  turned  and  fled  frantically 
up-stairs,  mistaking  for  the  clatter  of  pursuit  the 
noise  with  which  Cashel,  overbalanced  by  his  ineffec- 
tual blow,  stumbled  against  the  banisters. 

Lydia  was  in  her  boudoir  with  Alice  when  Bash- 
ville darted  in  and  locked  the  door.  Alice  rose  and 
screamed.  Lydia,  though  startled,  and  that  less  by 
the  unusual  action  than  by  the  change  in  a  familiar 
face  -which  she  had  never  seen  influenced  by  emotion 
before,  sat  still  and  quietly  asked  what  was  the  mat- 
ter. Bashville  checked  himself  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  spoke  unintelligibly,  and  went  to  the  window, 
which  he  opened.  Lydia  divined  that  he  was  about  to 
call  for  help  to  the  street. 

"  Bashville, "  she  said,  authoritatively:  "be  silent, 
and  close  the  window.    I  will  go  down -stairs  myself." 

Bashville  then  ran  to  prevent  her  from  unlocking 
the  door;  but  she  paid  no  attention  to  him.  He  did 
not  dare  to  oppose  her  forcibly.  He  was  beginning  to 
recover  from  his  panic,  and  to  feel  the  first  stings  of 
shame  for  having  yielded  to  it. 

"Madam,"  he  said:  "Byron  is  below;  and  he  in- 
187 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

sists  on  seeing  you.  He's  dangerons;  and  he's  too 
strong  for  me.  I  have  done  my  best — on  my  honor  I 
have.  Let  me  call  the  police.  Stop,"  he  added,  as 
she  opened  the  door.  "If  either  of  us  goes,  it  must 
be  me." 

"I  will  see  him  in  the  library,"  said  Lydia,  com- 
posedly. "Tell  him  so;  and  let  him  wait  therefor 
me — if  you  can  approach  him  without  running  any 
risk." 

"  Oh,  pray  let  him  call  the  police,"  urged  Alice. 
"  Don't  attempt  to  go  to  that  man." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Lydia,  good-humoredly.  "I 
am  not  in  the  least  afraid.  We  must  not  fail  in  cour- 
age when  we  have  a  prize-fighter  to  deal  with." 

Bashville,  white,  and  preventing  with  difficulty  his 
knees  from  knocking  together,  went  down-stairs  and 
found  Cashel  leaning  upon  the  balustrade,  panting, 
and  looking  perplexedly  about  him  as  he  wiped  his 
dabbled  brow.  Bashville  approached  him  with  the 
firmness  of  a  martyr,  halted,  on  the  third  stair,  and 
said, 

"  Miss  Carew  will  see  you  in  the  library.  Come  this 
way,  please." 

Cashel's  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from  them; 
he  followed  Bashville  in  silence.  When  they  entered 
the  library  Lydia  was  already  there.  Bashville  with- 
drew without  a  word.  Then  Cashel  sat  down,  and, 
to  her  consternation,  bent  his  head  on  his  hand  and 
yielded  to  an  hysterical  convulsion.  Before  she  could 
resolve  how  to  act  he  looked  up  at  her  with  his  face 
distorted  and  discolored,  and  tried  to  speak. 

188 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Pray  be  calm,"  said  Lydia.  "lam  told  that  you 
wish  to  speak  to  me." 

"I  don't  wish  to  speak  to  you  ever  again,"  said 
Cashel,  hoarsely.  "  You  told  your  servant  to  throw 
me  down  the  steps.     That's  enough  for  me." 

Lydia  caught  from  him  the  tendency  to  sob  which 
he  was  struggling  with;  but  she  repressed  it,  and  an- 
swered, firmly,  "If  my  servant  has  been  guilty  of  the 
least  incivility  to  you,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron,  he  has  ex- 
ceeded his  orders." 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  said  Cashel.  "  He  may  thank 
his  luck  that  he  has  his  head  on.  If  I  had  planted  on 
him  that  time — but  he  doesn't  matter.  Hold  on  a 
bit— I  can't  talk — I  shall  get  my  second  wind  presently, 
and  then — "  Cashel  stopped  a  moment  to  pant,  and 
then  asked,  "  Why  are  you  going  to  give  me  up  ?  " 

Lydia  ranged  her  wits  in  battle  array,  and  replied, 
"Do  you  remember  our  conversation  at  Mrs.  Hos- 
kyn's?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  admitted  then  that  if  the  nature  of  your  oc- 
cupation became  known  to  me  our  acquaintance  should 
cease.     That  has  now  come  to  pass. " 

"  That  was  all  very  fine  talk  to  excuse  my  not  tell- 
ing you.  But  I  find,  like  many  another  man  when 
put  to  the  proof,  that  I  didn't  mean  it.  Who  told  you 
I  was  a  fighting  man  ?  " 

"  I  had  rather  not  tell  you  that." 

"  Aha  1 "  said  Cashel,  with  a  triumph  that  was  half 
choked  by  the  remnant  of  his  hysteria.  "Who  is 
trying  to  make  a  secret  now,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

189 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  do  so  in  this  instance  because  I  am  afraid  to 
expose  a  friend  to  your  resentment." 

"And  why?  He's  a  man,  of  course;  else  you 
wouldn't  be  afraid.  You  think  that  I'd  go  straight 
off  and  murder  him.  Perhaps  he  told  you  that  it 
would  come  quite  natural  to  a  man  like  me — a  ruffian 
like  me — to  smash  him  up.  That  comes  of  being  a 
coward.  People  run  my  profession  down ;  not  because 
there  is  a  bad  one  or  two  in  it — there's  plenty  of  bad 
bishops,  if  you  come  to  that — but  because  they're 
afraid  of  us.  You  may  make  yourself  easy  about  your 
friend.  I  am  accustomed  to  get  well  paid  for  the 
beatings  I  give;  and  your  own  common-sense  ought  to 
tell  you  that  any  one  who  is  used  to  being  paid  for  a 
job  is  just  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  do  it  for 
nothing." 

"  I  find  the  contrary  to  be  the  case  with  first-rate 
artists,"  said  Lydia. 

"Thank  you,"  retorted  Cashel,  sarcastically.  "I 
ought  to  make  you  a  bow  for  that.  I'm  glad  you 
acknowledge  that  it  is  an  art." 

"  But,"  said  Lydia  seriously,  "  it  seems  to  me  that 
it  is  an  art  wholly  anti-social  and  retrograde.  And  I 
fear  that  you  have  forced  this  interview  on  me  to  no 
purpose." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  anti-social  or  not.  But 
I  think  it  hard  that  I  should  be  put  out  of  decent 
society  when  fellows  that  do  far  worse  than  I  are  let 
in.  Who  did  I  see  here  last  Friday,  the  most  honored 
of  your  guests  ?  Why,  that  Frenchman  with  the  gold 
spectacles.     What  do  you  think  I  was  told  when  I 

190 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

asked  what  his  little  game  was?  Baking  dogs  in 
ovens  to  see  how  long  a  dog  could  live  red  hot !  I'd 
like  to  catch  him  doing  it  to  a  dog  of  mine.  Ay; 
and  sticking  a  rat  full  of  nails  to  see  how  much  pain 
a  rat  could  stand.  Why,  it's  just  sickening.  Do  you 
think  I'd  have  shaken  hands  with  that  chap  ?  If  he 
hadn't  been  a  guest  of  yours  I'd  have  given  him  a 
notion  of  how  much  pain  a  Frenchman  can  stand 
without  any  nails  in  him.  And  he's  to  be  received 
and  made  much  of,  while  I  am  kicked  out  !  Look  at 
your  relation,  the  general.  What  is  he  but  a  fighting 
man,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  Isn't  it  his  pride  and 
boast  that  as  long  as  he  is  paid  so  much  a  day  he'll 
ask  no  questions  whether  a  war  is  fair  or  unfair,  but 
just  walk  out  and  put  thousands  of  men  iu  the  best 
way  to  kill  and  be  killed  ? — keeping  well  behind  them 
himself  all  the  time,  mind  you.  Last  year  he  was  up 
to  his  chin  in  the  blood  of  a  lot  of  poor  blacks  that 
were  no  more  a  match  for  his  armed  men  than  a 
feather-weight  would  be  for  me.  Bad  as  I  am,  I 
wouldn't  attack  a  feather-weight,  or  stand  by  and  see 
another  heavy  man  do  it.  Plenty  of  your  friends  go 
pigeon-shooting  to  Hurlingham.  There's  a  humane 
and  manly  way  of  spending  a  Saturday  afternoon  ! 
Lord  Worthington,  that  comes  to  see  you  when  he 
likes,  though  he's  too  much  of  a  man  or  too  little  of 
a  shot  to  kill  pigeons,  thinks  nothing  of  fox-hunting. 
Do  you  think  foxes  like  to  be  hunted,  or  that  the 
people  that  hunt  them  have  such  fine  feelings  that 
they  can  afford  to  call  prize-fighters  names  ?  Look  at 
the  men  that  get  killed  or  lamed  every  year  at  steeple- 

191 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

chasing,  fox-hunting,  cricket,  and  foot-ball  !  Dozena 
of  them  !  Look  at  the  thousands  killed  in  battle  ! 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  any  one  being  killed  in  the 
ring  ?  Why,  from  first  to  last,  during  the  whole  cen- 
tury that  prize-fighting  has  been  going  on,  there's  not 
been  six  fatal  accidents  at  really  respectable  fights. 
It's  safer  than  dancing;  many  a  woman  has  danced 
her  skirt  into  the  fire  and  been  burned.  I  once 
fought  a  man  who  had  spoiled  his  constitution  with 
bad  living;  and  he  exhausted  himself  so  by  going  on 
and  on  long  after  he  was  beaten  that  he  died  of  it, 
and  nearly  finished  me,  too.  If  you'd  heard  the  fuss 
that  even  the  oldest  fighting  men  made  over  it  you'd 
have  thought  that  a  baby  had  died  from  falling  out 
of  its  cradle.  A  good  milling  does  a  man  more  good 
than  harm.  And  if  all  these — dog-bakers,  and  sol- 
diers, and  pigeon-shooters,  and  fox-hunters,  and  the 
rest  of  them — are  made  welcome  here,  why  am  I  shut 
out  like  a  brute  beast  ?  " 

"Truly  I  do  not  know,"  said  Lydia,  puzzled; 
"unless  it  be  that  your  colleagues  have  failed  to 
recommend  themselves  to  society  by  their  extra-pro- 
fessional conduct  as  the  others  have." 

"I  grant  you  that  fighting  men  ar'n't  gentlemen, 
as  a  rule.  No  more  were  painters,  or  poets,  once 
upon  a  time.  But  what  I  want  to  know  is  this:  Sup- 
posing a  fighting  man  has  as  good  manners  as  your 
friends,  and  is  as  well  born,  why  shouldn't  he  mix 
with  them  and  be  considered  their  equal  ?  " 

"  The  distinction  seems  arbitrary,  I  confess.  But 
perhaps  the  true  remedy  would  be  to  exclude  the  vivi* 

192 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

sectors  and  soldiers,  instead  of  admitting  the  prize- 
fighters. Mr.  Cashel  Byron/'  added  Lydia,  changing 
her  manner,  M I  cannot  discuss  this  with  you.  Society 
has  a  prejudice  against  you.  I  share  it;  and  I  cannot 
overcome  it.  Can  you  find  no  nobler  occupation  than 
these  fierce  and  horrible  encounters  by  which  you 
condescend  to  gain  a  living  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Cashel,  flatly.  "  I  can't.  That's  just 
where  it  is." 

Lydia  looked  grave,  and  said  nothing. 

"You  don't  see  it?"  said  Cashel.  "Well,  I'll 
just  tell  you  all  about  myself,  and  then  leave  you  to 
judge.  May  I  sit  down  while  I  talk  ?  "  He  had  risen 
in  the  course  of  his  remarks  on  Lydia's  scientific  and 
military  acquaintances. 

She  pointed  to  a  chair  near  her.  Something  in  the 
action  brought  color  to  his  cheeks. 

"  I  believe  I  was  the  most  unfortunate  devil  of  a 
boy  that  ever  walked,"  he  began,  when  he  was  seated. 
"  My  mother  was — and  is — an  actress,  and  a  tiptop 
crack  in  her  profession.  One  of  the  first  things  I  re- 
member is  sitting  on  the  floor  in  the  corner  of  a  room 
where  there  was  a  big  glass,  and  she  flaring  away  before 
it,  attitudinizing  and  spouting  Shakespeare  like  mad. 
I  was  afraid  of  her,  because  she  was  very  particular 
about  my  manners  and  appearance,  and  would  never 
let  me  go  near  a  theatre.  I  know  very  little  about 
either  my  people  or  hers;  for  she  boxed  my  ears  one 
day  for  asking  who  my  father  was,  and  I  took  good 
care  not  to  ask  her  again.  She  was  quite  young  when 
I  was  a  child;  at  first  I  thought  her  a  sort  of  angel — 
13  193 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

I  should  have  been  fond  of  her,  I  think,  if  she  had  let 
me.  But  she  didn't,  somehow;  and  I  had  to  keep  my 
affection  for  the  servants.  I  had  plenty  of  variety  in 
that  way;  for  she  gave  her  whole  establishment  the 
sack  about  once  every  two  months,  except  a  maid  who 
used  to  bully  her,  and  gave  me  nearly  all  the  nursing 
I  "ever  got.  I  believe  it  was  my  crying  about  some 
housemaid  or  other  who  went  away  that  first  set  her 
abusing  me  for  having  low  tastes — a  sort  of  thing  that 
used  to  cut  me  to  the  heart,  and  which  she  kept  up 
till  the  very  day  I  left  her  for  good.  We  were  a  pre- 
cious pair :  I  sulky  and  obstinate,  she  changeable  and 
hot-tempered.  She  used  to  begin  breakfast  sometimes 
by  knocking  me  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  with  a 
slap,  and  finish  it  by  calling  me  her  darling  boy  and 
promising  me  all  manner  of  toys  and  things.  I  soon 
gave  up  trying  to  please  her,  or  like  her,  and  became 
as  disagreeable  a  young  imp  as  you'd  ask  to  see.  My 
only  thought  was  to  get  all  I  could  out  of  her  when  she 
was  in  a  good-humor,  and  to  be  sullen  and  stubborn 
when  she  was  in  a  tantrum.  One  day  a  boy  in  the 
street  threw  some  mud  at  me,  and  I  ran  in  crying  and 
complained  to  her.  She  told  me  I  was  a  little  coward. 
I  haven't  forgiven  her  for  that  yet — perhaps  because 
it  was  one  of  the  few  true  things  she  ever  said  to  me. 
I  was  in  a  state  of  perpetual  aggravation;  and  I  often 
wonder  that  I  wasn't  soured  for  life  at  that  time.  At 
last  I  got  to  be  such,  a  little  fiend  that  when  she  hit 
me  I  used  to  guard  off  her  blows,  and  look  so  wicked 
that  I  think  she  got  afraid  of  me.  Then  she  put  me 
to  school,  telling  me  that  I  had  no  heart,  and  telling 

194 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  master  that  I  was  an  ungovernable  young  brute. 
So  I,  like  a  little  fool,  cried  at  leaving 'her;  and  she,  like 
a  big  one,  cried  back  again  over  me — just  after  telling 
the  master  what  a  bad  one  I  was,  mind  you — and  off 
she  went,  leaving  her  darling  boy  and  blessed  child 
howling  at  his  good  luck  in  getting  rid  of  her. 

"  I  was  a  nice  boy  to  let  loose  in  a  school.  I  could 
speak  as  well  as  an  actor,  as  far  as  pronunciation  goes; 
but  I  could  hardly  read  words  of  one  syllable;  and  as 
to  writing,  I  couldn't  make  pothooks  and  hangers  re- 
spectably. To  this  day,  I  can  no  more  spell  than  old 
Ned  Skene  can.  What  was  a  worse  sort  of  ignorance 
was  that  I  had  no  idea  of  fair  play.  I  thought  that 
all  servants  would  be  afraid  of  me,  and  that  all  grown- 
up people  would  tyrannize  over  me.  I  was  afraid  of 
everybody;  afraid  that  my  cowardice  would  be  found 
out;  and  as  angry  and  cruel  in  my  ill-tempers  as  cow- 
ards always  are.  Now  you'll  hardly  believe  this;  but 
what  saved  me  from  going  to  the  bad  altogether  was 
my  finding  out  that  I  was  a  good  one  to  fight.  The 
bigger  boys  were  given  to  fighting,  and  used  to  have 
mills  every  Saturday  afternoon,  with  seconds,  bottle- 
holders,  and  everything  complete,  except  the  ropes 
and  stakes.  We  little  chaps  used  to  imitate  them 
among  ourselves  as  best  we  could.  At  first,  when 
they  made  me  fight,  I  shut  my  eyes  and  cried;  but 
for  all  that  I  managed  to  catch  the  other  fellow  tight 
round  the  waist  and  throw  him.  After  that  it  became 
a  regular  joke  to  make  me  fight,  for  I  always  cried. 
But  the  end  of  it  was  that  I  learned  to  keep  my  eyes 
open  and  hit  straight.     I  had  no  trouble  about  fight- 

195 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ing  then.  Somehow,  I  could  tell  by  instinct  when 
the  other  fellow  was  going  to  hit  me,  and  I  always  hit 
him  first.  It's  the  same  with  me  now  in  the  ring;  I 
know  what  a  man  is  going  to  do  before  he  rightly 
knows  himself.  The  power  that  this  gave  me,  civil- 
ized me.  It  made  me  cock  of  the  school;  and  I  had  to 
act  accordingly.  I  had  enough  good-nature  left  to 
keep  me  from  being  a  bully;  and,  as  cock,  I  couldn't 
be  mean  or  childish.  There  would  be  nothing  like 
fighting  for  licking  boys  into  shape  if  every  one  could 
be  cock;  but  every  one  can't;  so  I  suppose  it  does  more 
harm  than  good. 

"  I  should  have  enjoyed  school  well  enough  if  I  had 
worked  at  my  books.  But  I  wouldn't  study;  and  the 
masters  were  all  down  on  me  as  an  idler — though  I 
shouldn't  have  been  like  that  if  they  had  known  how 
to  teach — I  have  learned  since  what  teaching  is.  As 
to  the  holidays,  they  were  the  worst  part  of  the  year 
to  me.  When  I  was  left  at  school  I  was  savage  at  not 
being  let  go  home;  and  when  I  went  home  my  mother 
did  nothing  but  find  fault  with  my  school-boy  man- 
ners. I  was  getting  too  big  to  be  cuddled  as  her  dar- 
ling boy,  you  understand.  In  fact,  her  treatment  of 
me  was  just  the  old  game  with  the  affectionate  part 
left  out.  It  wasn't  pleasant,  after  being  cock  of  the 
school,  to  be  made  feel  like  a  good-for-nothing  little 
brat  tied  to  her  apron-strings.  When  she  saw  that  I 
was  learning  nothing  she  sent  me  to  another  school  at 
a  place  in  the  north  called  Pauley.  I  stayed  there 
until  I  was  seventeen;  and  then  she  came  one  day,  and 
we  had  a  row,  as  usual.     She  said  she  wouldn't  let  me 

196 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

leave  school  until  I  was  nineteen ;  and  so  I  settled  that 
question  by  running  away  the  same  night.  I  got  to 
Liverpool,  where  I  hid  in  a  ship  bound  for  Australia. 
When  I  was  starved  out  they  treated  me  better  than  I 
expected;  and  I  worked  hard  enough  to  earn  my  pas- 
sage and  my  victuals.  But  when  I  was  left  ashore  in 
Melbourne  I  was  in  a  pretty  pickle.  I  knew  nobody, 
and  I  had  no  money.  Everything  that  a  man  could 
live  by  was  owned  by  some  one  or  other.  I  walked 
through  the  town  looking  for  a  place  where  they  might 
want  a  boy  to  run  errands  or  to  clean  windows.  But 
somehow  I  hadn't  the  cheek  to  go  into  the  shops  and 
ask.  Two  or  three  times,  when  I  was  on  the  point  of 
trying,  I  caught  sight  of  some  cad  of  a  shopman,  and 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  wouldn't  be  ordered  about  by 
him,  and  that  since  I  had  the  whole  town  to  choose 
from  I  might  as  well  go  on  to  the  next  place.  At 
last,  quite  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  saw  an  advertise- 
ment stuck  up  on  a  gymnasium,  and,  while  I  was 
reading  it,  I  got  talking  to  old  Ned  Skene,  the  owner, 
who  was  smoking  at  the  door.  He  took  a  fancy  to 
me,  and  offered  to  have  me  there  as  a  sort  of  lad-of- 
all-work.  I  was  only  too  glad  to  get  the  chance,  and 
I  closed  with  him  at  once.  As  time  went  on  I  became 
so  clever  with  the  gloves  that  Ned  matched  me  against 
a  light-weight  named  Ducket,  and  bet  a  lot  of  money 
that  I  would  win.  '  Well,  I  couldn't  disappoint  him 
after  his  being  so  kind  to  me — Mrs.  Skene  had  made 
as  much  of  me  as  if  I  was  her  own  son.  What  could 
I  do  but  take  my  bread  as  it  came  to  me  ?  I  was  fit 
for  nothing  else.     Even  if  I  had  been  able  to  write  a 

197 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

good  hand  and  keep  accounts  I  couldn't  have  brought 
myself  to  think  that  quill-driving  and  counting  other 
people's  money  was  a  fit  employment  for  a  man.  It's 
not  what  a  man  would  like  to  do  that  he  must  do  in 
this  world,  it's  what  he  can  do;  and  the  only  mortal 
thing  I  could  do  properly  was  to  fight.  There  was 
plenty  of  money  and  plenty  of  honor  and  glory  among 
my  acquaintances  to  be  got  by  fighting.  So  I  chal- 
lenged Ducket,  and  knocked  him  all  to  pieces  in  about 
ten  minutes.  I  half  killed  him  because  I  didn't  know 
my  own  strength  and  was  afraid  of  him.  I  have  been 
at  the  same  work  ever  since.  I  was  training  for  a 
fight  when  I  was  down  at  Wiltstoken;  and  Mellish 
was  my  trainer.  It  came  off  the  day  you  saw  me  at 
Clapham;  that  was  how  I  came  to  have  a  black  eye. 
Wiltstoken  did  for  me.  With  all  my  nerve  and 
science,  I'm  no  better  than  a  baby  at  heart;  and  ever 
since  I  found  out  that  my  mother  wasn't  an  angel  I 
have  always  had  a  notion  that  a  real  angel  would  turn 
up  some  day.  You  see,  I  never  cared  much  for  wo- 
men. Bad  as  my  mother  was  as  far  as  being  what  you 
might  call  a  parent  went,  she  had  something  in  her 
looks  and  manners  that  gave  me  a  better  idea  of  what 
a  nice  woman  was  like  than  I  had  of  most  things;  and 
the  girls  I  met  in  Australia  and  America  seemed  very 
small  potatoes  to  me  in  comparison  with  her.  Be- 
sides, of  course  they  were  not  ladies.  I  was  fond  of 
Mrs.  Skene  because  she  was  good  to  me;  and  I  made 
myself  agreeable,  for  her  sake,  to  the  girls  that  came 
to  see  her;  but  in  reality  I  couldn't  stand  them.  Mrs. 
Skene  said  that  they  were  all  setting  their  caps  at  me 

198 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

— women  are  death  on  a  crack  fighter — but  the  more 
they  tried  it  on  the  less  I  liked  them.  It  was  no  go; 
I  could  get  on  with  the  men  well  enough,  no  matter 
how  common  they  were;  but  the  snobbishness  of  my 
breed  came  out  with  regard  to  the  women.  When  I 
saw  you  that  day  at  Wiltstoken  walk  out  of  the  trees 
and  stand  looking  so  quietly  at  me  and  Mellish,  and 
then  go  back  out  of  sight  without  a  word,  I'm  blessed 
if  I  didn't  think  you  were  the  angel  come  at  last. 
Then  I  met  you  at  the  railway  station  and  walked 
with  you.  You  put  the  angel  out  of  my  head  quick 
enough;  for  an  angel,  after  all,  is  only  a  shadowy, 
childish  notion — I  believe  it's  all  gammon  about  there 
being  any  in  heaven — but  you  gave  me  a  better  idea  than 
mamma  of  what  a  woman  should  be,  and  you  came 
up  to  that  idea  and  went  beyond  it.  I  have  been  in 
love  with  you  ever  since;  and  if  I  can't  have  you,  I 
don't  care  what  becomes  of  me.  I  know  I  am  a  bad 
lot,  and  have  always  been  one;  but  when  I  saw  you 
taking  pleasure  in  the  society  of  fellows  just  as  bad 
as  myself,  I  didn't  see  why  I  should  keep  away  when 
I  was  dying  to  come.  I  am  no  worse  than  the  dog- 
baker,  any  how.  And  hang  it,  Miss  Lydia,  I  don't 
want  to  brag;  but  I  never  fought  a  cross  or  struck  a 
foul  blow  in  my  life;  and  I  have  never  been  beaten, 
though  I'm  only  a  middle-weight,  and  have  stood  up 
with  the  best  fourteen-stone  men  in  the  Colonies,  the 
States,  or  in  England." 

Cashel  ceased.  As  he  sat  eying  her  wistfully,  Lydia, 
who  had  been  perfectly  still,  said  musingly, 

"  Strange  !  that  I  should  be  so  much  more  preju- 
199 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

diced  than  I  knew.  What  will  you  think  of  me  when 
I  tell  you  that  your  profession  does  not  seem  half  so 
shocking  now  that  I  know  you  to  he  the  son  of  an 
artist,  and  not  a  journeyman  butcher  or  a  laborer,  as 
my  cousin  told  me." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Cashel.  "  That  lantern-jawed 
fellow  told  you  I  was  a  butcher  !  " 

"I  did  not  mean  to  betray  him;  but,  as  I  have 
already  said,  I  am  bad  at  keeping  secrets.  Mr.  Lucian 
Webber  is  my  cousin  and  friend,  and  has  done  me 
many  services.  May  I  rest  assured  that  he  has  nothing 
to  fear  from  you  ?  " 

"  He  has  no  right  to  tell  lies  about  me.  He  is  sweet 
on  you,  too :  I  twigged  that  at  Wiltstoken.  I  have  a 
good  mind  to  let  him  know  whether  I  am  a  butcher  or 
not." 

"  He  did  not  say  so.  What  he  told  me  of  you,  as 
far  as  it  went,  is  exactly  confirmed  by  what  you  have 
said  yourself.  But  I  happened  to  ask  him  to  what 
class  men  of  your  calling  usually  belonged;  and  he 
said  that  they  were  laborers,  butchers,  and  so  forth. 
Do  you  resent  that?  " 

"  I  see  plainly  enough  that  you  won't  let  me  resent 
it.  I  should  like  to  know  what  else  he  said  of  me. 
But  he  was  right  enough  about  the  butchers.  There 
are  all  sorts  of  blackguards  in  the  ring :  there's  no  use 
in  denying  it.  Since  it's  been  made  illegal,  decent  men 
won't  go  into  it.  But,  all  the  same,  it's  not  the  fight- 
ing men,  but  the  betting  men,  that  bring  discredit  on 
it.  I  wish  your  cousin  had  held  his  confounded 
tougue." 

200 


Cashel  /Byron's  Profession 

"  I  wish  you  had  forestalled  him  by  telling  me  the 
truth." 

"  I  wish  I  had,  now.  But  what's  the  use  of  wish- 
ing? I  didn't  dare  run  the  chance  of  losing  you. 
See  how  soon  you  forbade  me  the  house  when  you  did 
find  out." 

"It  made  little  difference,"  said  Lydia,  gravely. 

"You  were  always  friendly  to  me,"  said  Cashel, 
plaintively. 

"  More  so  than  you  were  to  me.  You  should  not 
have  deceived  me.  And  now  I  think  we  had  better 
part.  I  am  glad  to  know  your  history;  and  I  admit 
that  when  you  embraced  your  profession  you  made 
perhaps  the  best  choice  that  society  offered  you.  I  do 
not  blame  you." 

"  But  you  give  me  the  sack.     Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  propose,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  ?  Is  it  to 
visit  my  house  in  the  intervals  of  battering  and  maim- 
ing butchers  and  laborers  ?  " 

"No,  it's  not,"  retorted  Cashel.  "You're  very 
aggravating.  I  won't  stay  much  longer  in  the  ring 
now,  because  my  luck  is  too  good  to  last.  I  shall 
have  to  retire  soon,  luck  or  no  luck,  because  no  one 
can  match  me.  Even  now  there's  nobody  except  Bill 
Paradise  that  pretends  to  be  able  for  me;  and  I'll 
settle  him  in  September  if  he  really  means  business. 
After  that,  I'll  retire.  I  expect  to  be  worth  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  then.  Ten  thousand  pounds,  I'm  told, 
is  the  same  as  five  hundred  a  year.  Well,  I  suppose, 
judging  from  the  style  you  keep  here,  that  you're 
worth  as  much  more,  besides  your  place  in  the  coun- 

201 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

try;  so,  if  you  will  marry  me,  we  shall  have  a  thou- 
sand a  year  between  us.  I  don't  know  much  of 
money  matters;  but  at  any  rate  we  can  live  like  fight- 
ing-cocks on  that  much.  That's  a  straight  and  busi- 
ness-like proposal,  isn't  it?  " 

"And  if  I  refuse?"  said  Lydia,  with  some  stern- 
ness. 

"  Then  you  may  have  the  ten  thousand  pounds  to 
do  what  you  like  with,"  said  Cashel,  despairingly. 
"  It  won't  matter  what  becomes  of  me.  I  won't  go 
to  the  devil  for  you  or  any  woman  if  I  can  help  it; 
and  I — but  where's  the  good  of  saying  if  you  refuse. 
I  know  I  don't  express  myself  properly;  I'm  a  bad 
hand  at  sentimentality;  but  if  I  had  as  much  gab  as  a 
poet,  I  couldn't  be  any  fonder  of  you,  or  think  more 
highly  of  you." 

"  But  you  are  mistaken  as  to  the  amount  of  my  in- 
come." 

"That  doesn't  matter  a  bit.  If  you  have  more, 
why,  the  more  the  merrier.  If  you  have  less,  or  if 
you  have  to  give  up  all  your  property  when  you're 
married,  I  will  soon  make  another  ten  thousand  to  sup- 
ply the  loss.  Only  give  me  one  good  word,  and, 
by  George,  I'll  fight  the  seven  champions  of  Christen- 
dom, one  down  and  t'other  come  on,  for  five  thousand 
a  side  each.     Hang  the  money  !  " 

"I  am  richer  than  you  suppose,"  said  Lydia, 
unmoved.  "I  cannot  tell  you  exactly  how  much  I 
possess;  but  my  income  is  about  forty  thousand 
pounds." 

"Forty    thousand    pounds!"    ejaculated    Cashel. 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Holy  Moses  !  I  didn't  think  the  queen  had  so  much 
as  that." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  became  very  red.  Then, 
in  a  voice  broken  by  mortification,  he  said,  "I  see  I 
have  been  making  a  fool  of  myself,"  and  took  his 
hat  and  turned  to  go. 

"  It  does  not  follow  that  you  should  go  at  once  with- 
out a  word,"  said  Lydia,  betraying  nervousness  for  the 
first  time  during  the  interview. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  rot,"  said  Cashel.  "I  maybe  a 
fool  while  my  eyes  are  shut,  but  I'm  sensible  enough 
when  they're  open.  I  have  no  business  here.  I  wish 
to  the  Lord  I  had  stayed  in  Australia." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better,"  said  Lydia, 
troubled.  "But  since  we  have  met,  it  is  useless  to 
deplore  it;  and —  Let  me  remind  you  of  one  thing. 
You  have  pointed  out  to  me  that  I  have  made  friends 
of  men  whose  pursuits  are  no  better  than  yours.  I  do 
not  wholly  admit  that;  but  there  is  one  respect  in  which 
they  are  on  the  same  footing  as  you.  They  are  all,  as 
far  as  worldly  gear  is  concerned,  much  poorer  than  I. 
Many  of  them,  I  fear,  are  much  poorer  than  you  are." 

Cashel  looked  up  quickly  with  returning  hope;  but 
it  lasted  only  a  moment.  He  shook  his  head  deject- 
edly. 

"  I  am  at  least  grateful  to  you,"  she  continued, 
"  because  you  have  sought  me  for  my  own  sake,  know- 
ing nothing  of  my  wealth." 

"I  should  think  not,"  groaned  Cashel.  "Your 
wealth  may  be  a  very  fine  thing  for  the  other  fellows; 
and  I'm  glad  you  have  it,  for  your  own  sake.     But 

203 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

it's  a  settler  for  me.  It's  knocked  me  out  of  time,  so 
it  has.  I  sha'n't  come  up  again;  and  the  sooner  the 
sponge  is  chucked  up  in  my  corner,  the  better.  So 
good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Lydia,  almost  as  pale  as  he  had 
now  become,  "  since  you  will  have  it  so." 

"  Since  the  devil  will  have  it  so,"  said  Cashel,  rue- 
fully. "  It's  no  use  wishing  to  have  it  any  other  way. 
The  luck  is  against  me.  I  hope,  Miss  Carew,  that 
you'll  excuse  me  for  making  such  an  ass  of  myself. 
It's  all  my  blessed  innocence;  I  never  was  taught  any 
better." 

"  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you  except  on  the  old  score 
of  hiding  the  truth  from  me ;  and  that  I  forgive  you 
— as  far  as  the  evil  of  it  affects  me.  As  for  your 
declaration  of  attachment  to  me  personally,  I  have 
received  many  similar  ones  that  have  nattered  me 
less.  But  there  are  certain  scruples  between  us. 
You  will  not  court  a  woman  a  hundred-fold  richer 
than  yourself;  and  I  will  not  entertain  a  prize-fighter. 
My  wealth  frightens  every  man  who  is  not  a  knave; 
and  your  profession  frightens  every  woman  who  is  not 
a  fury." 

"Then  you —  Just  tell  me  this,"  said  Cashel, 
eagerly.  "  Suppose  I  were  a  rich  swell,  and  were  not 
a—" 

"No,"  said  Lydia,  peremptorily  interrupting  him. 
"  I  will  suppose  nothing  but  what  is." 

Cashel  relapsed  into  melancholy.  "  If  you  only 
hadn't  been  kind  to  me  !  "  he  said.  "I  think  the 
reason  I  love  you  so  much  is  that  you're  the  only  per- 

204 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

son  that  is  not  afraid  of  me.  Other  people  are  civil 
because  they  daren't  be  otherwise  to  the  cock  of  the 
ring.  It's  a  lonely  thing  to  be  a  champion.  You 
knew  nothing  about  that;  and  you  knew  I  was  afraid 
of  you;  and  yet  you  were  as  good  as  gold." 

"  It  is  also  a  lonely  thing  to  be  a  very  rich  woman. 
People  are  afraid  of  my  wealth,  and  of  what  they  call 
my  learning.  We  two  have  at  least  one  experience  in 
common.  Now  do  me  a  great  favor,  by  going.  We 
have  nothing  further  to  say." 

"  I'll  go  in  two  seconds.  But  I  don't  believe  much 
in  your  being  lonely.     That's  only  fancy." 

"  Perhaps  so.  Most  feelings  of  this  kind  are  only 
fancies." 

There  was  a  pause.     Then  Cashel  said, 

"  I  don't  feel  half  so  downhearted  as  I  did  a  minute 
ago.      Are   you   sure    that    you're   not    angry   with 


me 


on 


"  Quite  sure.     Pray  let  me  say  good-bye." 

"And  may  I  never  see  you  again?  Never  at  all? 
— world  without  end,  amen  ?  " 

"Never  as  the  famous  prize-fighter.  But  if  a  day 
should  come  when  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  will  be  something 
better  worthy  of  his  birth  and  nature,  I  will  not  forget 
an  old  friend.     Are  you  satisfied  now  ?  " 

Cashel 's  face  began  to  glow,  and  the  roots  of  his 
hair  to  tingle.  "One  thing  more,"  he  said.  "If 
you  meet  me  by  chance  in  the  street  before  that,  will 
you  give  me  a  look  ?  I  don't  ask  for  a  regular  bow, 
but  just  a  look  to  keep  me  going  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  cutting  you,"  said  Lydia, 
205 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

gravely.  "But  do  not  place  yourself  purposely  in 
my  way." 

"  Honor  bright,  I  won't.  I'll  content  myself  with 
walking  through  that  street  in  Soho  occasionally. 
Now  I'm  off;  I  know  you're  in  a  hurry  to  be  rid  of  me. 
So  good-b —  Stop  a  bit,  though.  Perhaps  when 
that  time  you  spoke  of  comes,  you  will  be  mar- 
ried." 

"  It  is  possible;  but  I  am  not  likely  to  marry.  How 
many  more  things  have  you  to  say  that  you  have  no 
right  to  say?" 

"Not  one,"  said  Cashel,  with  a  laugh  that  rang 
through  the  house.  "  I  never  was  happier  in  my  life, 
though  I'm  crying  inside  all  the  time.  I'll  have  a  try 
for  you  yet.  Good-bye.  No,"  he  added,  turning 
from  her  proffered  hand;  "I  daren't  touch  it;  I 
should  eat  you  afterwards."  And  he  ran  out  of  the 
room. 

In  the  hall  was  Bashville,  pale  and  determined, 
waitiug  there  to  rush  to  the  assistance  of  his  mistress 
at  her  first  summons.  He  had  a  poker  concealed  at 
hand.  Having  just  heard  a  great  laugh,  and  seeing 
Cashel  come  down-stairs  in  high  spirits,  he  stood  stock- 
still,  and  did  not  know  what  to  think. 

"Well,  old  chap,"  said  Cashel,  boisterously,  slap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder,  "so  you're  alive  yet.  Is 
there  any  one  in  the  dining-room  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Bashville. 

"  There's  a  thick  carpet  there  to  fall  soft  on,"  said 
Cashel,  pulling  Bashville  into  the  room.  "  Come 
along.     Now,  show  me  that  little  trick  of  yours  again. 

206 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Come,  don't  be  afraid.     Down  with  me.     Take  care 
you  don't  knock  my  head  against  the  fire-irons." 

"Bat—" 

"  But  be  hanged.  You  were  spry  enough  at  it  be- 
fore.    Come  ! " 

Bashville,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  seized  Cashel, 
who  immediately  became  grave  and  attentive,  and 
remained  imperturbably  so  while  Bashville  expertly 
threw  him.  He  sat  for  a  moment  thinking  on  the 
hearth-rug  before  he  rose.  "I  see,"  he  said,  then, 
getting  up.     "  Now,  do  it  again." 

"But  it  makes  such  a  row,"  remonstrated  Bash- 
ville. 

"  Only  once  more.     There'll  be  no  row  this  time." 

"  Well,  you  are  an  original  sort  of  cove,"  said  Bash- 
ville, complying.  But  instead  of  throwing  his  man, 
he  found  himself  wedged  into  a  collar  formed  by 
Cashel's  arms,  the  least  constriction  of  which  would 
have  strangled  him.  Cashel  again  roared  with  laugh- 
ter as  he  released  him. 

"  That's  the  way,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  You  can't 
catch  an  old  fox  twice  in  the  same  trap.  Do  you 
know  any  more  falls  ?  " 

"I  do,"  said  Bashville;  "but  I  really  can't  show 
them  to  you  here.  I  shall  get  into  trouble  on  account 
of  the  noise." 

"  You  can  come  down  to  me  whenever  you  have  an 
evening  out,"  said  Cashel,  handing  him  a  card,  "to 
that  address,  and  show  me  what  you  know,  and  I'll 
see  what  I  can  do  with  you.  There's  the  making  of  a 
man  in  you." 

207 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"You're  very  kind,"  said  Bashville,  pocketing  the 
card  with  a  grin. 

"And  now  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice  that 
will  be  of  use  to  you  as  long  as  you  live,"  said  Cashel, 
impressively.  "  You  did  a  very  silly  thing  to-day. 
You  threw  a  man  down — a  fighting-man — and  then 
stood  looking  at  him  like  a  fool,  waiting  for  him  to 
get  up  and  kill  you.  If  ever  you  do  that  again,  fall 
on  him  as  heavily  as  you  can  the  instant  he's  off  his 
legs.  Drop  your  shoulder  well  into  him,  and,  if  he 
pulls  you  over,  make  play  with  the  back  of  your  head. 
If  he's  altogether  too  big  for  you,  put  your  knee  on 
his  throat  as  if  by  accident.  But,  on  no  account, 
stand  and  do  nothing.  It's  flying  in  the  face  of  Pro- 
vidence." 

Cashel  emphasized  these  counsels  by  taps  of  his 
forefinger  on  one  of  Bashville's  buttons.  In  conclu- 
sion, he  nodded,  opened  the  house-door,  and  walked 
away  in  buoyant  spirits. 

Lydia,  standing  near  the  library  window,  saw  him 
pass,  and  observed  how  his  light,  alert  step  and  a  cer- 
tain gamesome  assurance  of  manner  marked  him  off 
from  a  genteelly  promenading  middle-aged  gentleman, 
a  trudging  workman,  and  a  vigorously  striding  youth 
who  were  also  passing  by.  The  iron  railings  through 
which  she  saw  him  reminded  her  of  the  admirable  and 
dangerous  creatures  which  were  passing  and  repassing 
behind  iron  bars  in  the  park  yonder.  But  she  exulted, 
in  her  quiet  manner,  in  the  thought  that,  dangerous 
as  he  was,  she  had  no  fear  of  him.  When  his  cabman 
had  found  him  and  driven  him  off  she  went  to  her 

208 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

desk,  opened  a  private  drawer  in  it,  took  out  her 
father's  last  letter,  and  sat  for  some  time  looking  at  it 
without  unfolding  it. 

"  It  would  be  a  strange  thing,  father,"  she  said,  as 
if  he  were  actually  there  to  hear  her,  "  if  your  paragon 
should  turn  aside  from  her  friends,  the  artists,  philos- 
ophers, and  statesmen,  to  give  herself  to  an  illiterate 
prize-fighter.  I  felt  a  pang  of  absolute  despair  when 
he  replied  to  my  forty  thousand  pounds  a  year  with 
an  unanswerable  good-bye." 

She  locked  up  her  father,  as  it  were,  in  the  drawer 
again,  and  rang  the  bell.  Bashville  appeared,  some- 
what perturbed. 

"  If  Mr.  Byron  calls  again,  admit  him  if  I  am  at 
home." 

"Yes,  madam." 

"Thank  you." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  madam,  but  may  I  ask  has 
any  complaint  been  made  of  me  ?  " 

"None."  Bashville  was  reluctantly  withdrawing 
when  she  added,  "  Mr.  Byron  gave  me  to  understand 
that  you  tried  to  prevent  his  entrance  by  force.  You 
exposed  yourself  to  needless  risk  by  doing  so ;  and  you 
may  make  a  rule  in  future  that  when  people  are  im- 
portunate, and  will  not  go  away  when  asked,  they  had 
better  come  in  until  you  get  special  instructions  from 
me.  I  am  not  finding  fault;  on  the  contrary,  I  ap- 
prove of  your  determination  to  carry  out  your  orders; 
but  under  exceptional  circumstances  you  may  use  your 
own  discretion." 

"  He  shoved  the  door  into  my  face,  and  I  acted  on 
14  209 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  impulse  of  the  moment,  madam.  I  hope  you 
will  forgive  the  liberty  I  took  in  locking  the  door  of 
the  boudoir.  He  is  older  and  heavier  than  I  am, 
madam ;  and  he  has  the  advantage  of  being  a  profes- 
sional.    Else  I  should  have  stood  my  ground." 

"lam  quite  satisfied,"  said  Lydia,  a  little  coldly,  as 
she  left  the  room. 

"  How  long  you  have  been  !  "  cried  Alice,  almost  in 
hysterics,  as  Lydia  entered.  "Is  he  gone?  What 
were  those  dreadful  noises  ?  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  " 

"Dancing  and  late  hours  are  the  matter,"  said 
Lydia,  coolly.  "  The  season  is  proving  too  much  for 
you,  Alice." 

"It  is  not  the  season;  it  is  the  man,"  said  Alice, 
with  a  sob. 

"  Indeed  ?  I  have  been  in  conversation  with  the 
man  for  more  than  half  an  hour;  and  Bashville  has 
been  in  actual  combat  with  him;  yet  we  are  not  in 
hysterics.  You  have  been  sitting  here  at  your  ease, 
have  you  not?" 

"  I  am  not  in  hysterics,"  said  Alice,  indignantly. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Lydia,  gravely,  placing 
her  hand  on  the  forehead  of  Alice,  who  subsided  with 
a  sniff. 


210 


CHAPTER  X 

Mrs.  Byron,  under  her  stage  name  of  Adelaide 
Gisborne,  was  now,  for  the  second  time  in  her  career, 
much  talked  of  in  London,  where  she  had  been  for 
many  years  almost  forgotten.  The  metropolitan  man- 
agers of  her  own  generation  had  found  that  her  success 
in  new  parts  was  very  uncertain ;  that  she  was  more 
capricious  than  the  most  petted  favorites  of  the  public; 
and  that  her  invariable  reply  to  a  business  proposal 
was  that  she  detested  the  stage,  and  was  resolved  never 
to  set  foot  upon  it  again.  So  they  had  managed  to  do 
without  her  for  so  long  that  the  younger  London  play- 
goers knew  her  by  reputation  only  as  an  old-fashioned 
actress  who  wandered  through  the  provinces  palming 
herself  off  on  the  ignorant  inhabitants  as  a  great  artist, 
and  boring  them  with  performances  of  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare.  It  suited  Mrs.  Byron  well  to  travel 
with  the  nucleus  of  a  dramatic  company  from  town  to 
town,  staying  a  fortnight  in  each,  and  repeating  half 
a  dozen  characters  in  which  she  was  very  effective, 
and  which  she  knew  so  well  that  she  never  thought 
about  them  except  when,  as  indeed  often  happened, 
she  had  nothing  else  to  think  about.  Most  of  the  pro- 
vincial populations  received  her  annual  visits  with 
enthusiasm.  Among  them  she  found  herself  more 
excitingly  applauded  before  the  curtain,  her  authority 

211 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

more  despotic  behind  it,  her  expenses  smaller,  and  her 
gains  greater  than  in  London,  for  which  she  accord- 
ingly cared  as  little  as  London  cared  for  her.  As  she 
grew  older  she  made  more  money  and  spent  less. 
When  she  complained  to  Cashel  of  the  cost  of  his 
education,  she  was  rich.  Since  he  had  relieved  her 
of  that  cost  she  had  visited  America,  Egypt,  India, 
and  the  colonies,  and  had  grown  constantly  richer. 
From  this  great  tour  she  had  returned  to  England 
on  the  day  when  Cashel  added  the  laurels  of  the 
Elying  Dutchman  to  his  trophies  ;  and  the  next  Sun- 
day's paper  had  its  sporting  column  full  of  the 
prowess  of  Cashel  Byron,  and  its  theatrical  column 
full  of  the  genius  of  Adelaide  Gisborne.  But  she 
never  read  sporting  columns,  nor  he  theatrical  ones. 

The  managers  who  had  formerly  avoided  Mrs. 
Byron  were  by  this  time  dead,  bankrupt,  or  engaged 
in  less  hazardous  pursuits.  One  of  their  successors 
had  lately  restored  Shakespeare  to  popularity  as  sig- 
nally as  Cashel  had  restored  the  prize  ring.  He  was 
anxious  to  produce  the  play  of  "King  John,"  being 
desirous  of  appearing  as  Faulconbridge,  a  part  for 
which  he  was  physically  unfitted.  Though  he  had  no 
suspicion  of  his  unfitness,  he  was  awake  to  the  fact 
that  the  favorite  London  actresses,  though  admirable 
in  modern  comedy,  were  not  mistresses  of  what  he 
called,  after  Sir  Walter  Scott,  the  "big  bow  wow" 
style  required  for  the  part  of  Lady  Constance  in  Shake- 
speare's history.  He  knew  that  he  could  find  in  the 
provinces  many  veteran  players  who  knew  every  ges- 
ture and  inflection  of  voice  associated  by  tradition  with 

212 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  part;  but  he  was  afraid  that  they  would  remind 
Londoners  of  Richardson's  show,  and  get  Faulcon- 
bridge  laughed  at.  Then  he  thought  of  Adelaide  Gis- 
borne.  For  some  hours  after  the  idea  came  to  him  he 
was  gnawed  at  by  the  fear  that  her  performance  would 
throw  his  into  the  shade.  But  his  confidence  in  his 
own  popularity  helped  his  love  of  good  acting  to  pre- 
vail; and  he  made  the  newly  returned  actress  a  tempt- 
ing offer,  instigating  some  journalist  friends  of  his  at 
the  same  time  to  lament  over  the  decay  of  the  grand 
school  of  acting,  and  to  invent  or  republish  anecdotes 
of  Mrs.  Siddons. 

This  time  Mrs.  Byron  said  nothing  about  detesting 
the  stage.  She  had  really  detested  it  once;  but  by 
the  time  she  was  rich  enough  to  give  up  the  theatre 
she  had  worn  that  feeling  out,  and  had  formed  a  habit 
of  acting  which  was  as  irksome  to  shake  off  as  any 
other  habit.  She  also  found  a  certain  satisfaction  in 
making  money  with  ease  and  certainty;  and  she  made 
so  much  that  at  last  she  began  to  trifle  with  plans  of 
retirement,  of  playing  in  Paris,  of  taking  a  theatre  in 
London,  and  other  whims.  The  chief  public  glory 
of  her  youth  had  been  a  sudden  triumph  in  London  on 
the  occasion  of  her  first  appearance  on  any  stage ;  and 
she  now  felt  a  mind  to  repeat  this  and  crown  her 
career  where  it  had  begun.  So  she  accepted  the  man- 
ager's offer,  and  even  went  the  length  of  reading  the 
play  of  "King  John"  in  order  to  ascertain  what  it 
was  all  about. 

The  work  of  advertisement  followed  her  assent. 
Portraits  of  Adelaide  Gisborne  were  displayed  through- 

213 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

out  the  town.  Paragraphs  in  the  papers  mentioned 
large  sums  as  the  cost  of  mounting  the  historical  mas- 
terpiece of  the  national  bard.  All  the  available  seats 
in  the  theatre — except  some  six  or  seven  hundred  in 
the  pit  and  gallery — were  said  to  be  already  disposed 
of  for  the  first  month  of  the  expected  run  of  the  per- 
formance. The  prime  minister  promised  to  be  pres- 
ent on  the  opening  night.  Absolute  archseologic  ac- 
curacy was  promised.  Old  paintings  were  compared 
to  ascertain  the  dresses  of  the  period.  A  scene  into 
which  the  artist  had  incautiously  painted  a  pointed 
arch  was  condemned  as  an  anachronism.  Many  noble- 
men gave  the  actor-manager  access  to  their  collec- 
tions of  armor  and  weapons  in  order  that  his  accoutre- 
ment should  exactly  counterfeit  that  of  a  Norman 
baron.  Nothing  remained  doubtful  except  the  qual- 
ity of  the  acting. 

It  happened  that  one  of  the  most  curious  documents 
of  the  period  imquestion  was  a  scrap  of  vellum  contain- 
ing a  fragment  of  a  chronicle  of  Prince  Arthur,  with 
an  illuminated  portrait  of  his  mother.  It  had  been 
purchased  for  a  trifling  sum  by  the  late  Mr.  Carew, 
and  was  now  in  the  possession  of  Lydia,  to  whom  the 
actor-manager  applied  for  leave  to  inspect  it.  Leave 
being  readily  given,  he  visited  the  house  in  Kegent's 
Park,  which  he  declared  to  be  an  inexhaustible  store- 
house of  treasure.  He  deeply  regretted,  he  said,  that 
he  could  not  show  the  portrait  to  Miss  Gisborne. 
Lydia  replied  that  if  Miss  Gisborne  would  come  and 
look  at  it,  she  should  be  very  welcome.  Two  days 
later,  at  noon,  Mrs.  Byron  arrived  and  found  Lydia 

214 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

alone;  Alice  having  contrived  to  be  out,  as  she  felt 
that  it  was  better  not  to  meet  an  actress — one  could 
never  tell  what  they  might  have  been. 

The  years  that  had  elapsed  since  Mrs.  Byron's  visit 
to  Dr.  Moncrief  had  left  no  perceptible  trace  on  her; 
indeed  she  looked  younger  now  than  on  that  occasion, 
because  she  had  been  at  the  trouble  of  putting  on  an 
artificial  complexion.  Her  careless  refinement  of 
manner  was  so  different  from  the  studied  dignity  and 
anxious  courtesy  of  the  actor-manager,  that  Lydia 
could  hardly  think  of  them  as  belonging  to  the  same 
profession.  Her  voice  was  not  her  stage  voice;  it 
gave  a  subtle  charm  to  her  most  commonplace  remarks, 
and  it  was  as  different  as  possible  from  Cashel's  rough 
tones.  Yet  Lydia  was  convinced  by  the  first  note  of 
it  that  she  was  Cashel's  mother.  Besides,  their  eyes 
were  so  like  that  they  might  have  made  an  exchange 
without  altering  their  appearance. 

Mrs.  Byron,  coming  to  the  point  without  delay,  at 
once  asked  to  see  the  drawing.  Lydia  brought  her  to 
the  library,  were  several  portfolios  were  ready  for  in- 
spection. The  precious  fragment  of  vellum  was  upper- 
most. 

"Very  interesting,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Byron, 
throwing  it  aside  after  one  glance  at  it,  and  turning 
over  some  later  prints,  while  Lydia,  amused,  looked 
on  in  silence.  "Ah,"  she  said,  presently,  "here  is 
something  that  will  suit  me  exactly.  I  shall  not 
trouble  to  go  through  the  rest  of  your  collection,  thank 
you.  They  must  do  that  robe  for  me  in  violet  silk. 
What  is  your  opinion  of  it,  Miss  Carew?     I  have 

215 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

noticed,  from  one  or  two  trifles,  that  your  taste  is  ex- 
quisite." 

"  For  what  character  do  you  intend  the  dress  ?  " 

"  Constance,  in  '  King  John.'  " 

"But  silk  was  not  made  in  western  Europe  until 
three  hundred  years  after  Constance's  death.  And 
that  drawing  is  a  sketch  of  Marie  de  Medicis  by 
Bubens." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  smoothly.  "  What 
does  a  dress  three  hundred  years  out  of  date  matter 
when  the  woman  inside  it  is  seven  hundred  years  out  ? 
What  can  be  a  greater  anachronism  than  the  death  of 
Prince  Arthur  three  months  hence  on  the  stage  of  the 
Panopticon  Theatre?  I  am  an  artist  giving  life  to 
a  character  in  romance,  I  suppose;  certainly  not  a 
grown-up  child  playing  at  being  somebody  out  of  Mrs. 
Markham's  history  of  England.  I  wear  whatever 
becomes  me.     I  cannot  act  when  I  feel  dowdy." 

"  But  what  will  the  manager  say  ?  " 

"  I  doubt  if  he  will  say  anything.  He  will  hardly 
venture  to  press  on  me  anything  copied  from  that  old 
parchment.  As  he  will  wear  a  suit  of  armor  obvi- 
ously made  the  other  day  in  Birmingham,  why — !  " 
Mrs.  Byron  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  did  not  take 
sufficient  interest  in  the  manager's  opinion  to  finish 
her  sentence. 

"  After  all,  Shakespeare  concerned  himself  very  lit. 
tie  about  such  matters,"  said  Lydia,  conversationally. 

"  ~No  doubt.     I  seldom  read  him." 

"  Is  this  part  of  Lady  Constance  a  favorite  one  of 
yours?" 

216 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Troublesome,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  absently. 
"The  men  look  ridiculous  in  it;  and  it  does  not 
draw." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Lydia,  watching  her  face.  "  But 
I  spoke  rather  of  your  personal  feeling  towards  the 
character.  Do  you,  for  instance,  like  portraying  ma- 
ternal tenderness  on  the  stage  ?  " 

"  Maternal  tenderness,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  with  sud- 
den nobleness,  "is  far  too  sacred  a  thing  to  be  mim- 
icked.    Have  you  any  children  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lydia,  demurely.    "  I  am  not  married." 

"  Of  course  not.  You  should  get  married.  Mater- 
nity is  a  liberal  education  in  itself." 

"Do  you  think  that  it  suits  every  woman ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly.  Without  exception.  Only  think, 
dear  Miss  Carew,  of  the  infinite  patience  with  which 
you  must  tend  a  child,  of  the  necessity  of  seeing  with 
its  little  eyes  and  with  your  own  wise  ones  at  the  same 
time,  of  bearing  without  reproach  the  stabs  it  inno- 
cently inflicts,  of  forgiving  its  hundred  little  selfish- 
nesses, of  living  in  continual  fear  of  wounding  its 
exquisite  sensitiveness,  or  rousing  its  bitter  resentment 
of  injustice  and  caprice.  Think  of  how  you  must 
watch  yourself,  check  yourself,  exercise  and  develop 
everything  in  you  that  can  help  to  attract  and  retain 
the  most  jealous  love  in  the  world  !  Believe  me,  it  is 
a  priceless  trial  to  be  a  mother.  It  is  a  royal  compen- 
sation for  having  been  born  a  woman." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Lydia,  "I  wish  I  had  been 
born  a  man.  Since  you  seem  to  have  thought  deeply 
into  these  problems,  I  will  venture  to  ask  you  a  ques- 

217 


Cashei  Byron's  Profession 

tion.  Do  you  not  think  that  the  acquirement  of  an 
art  demanding  years  of  careful  self-study  and  training 
— such  as  yours,  for  example — is  also  of  great  educa- 
tional value  ?  Almost  a  sufficient  discipline  to  make 
one  a  good  mother  ?  " 

' '  Nonsense  !  "  said  Mrs.  Byron,  decidedly.  "  Peo- 
ple come  into  the  world  ready-made.  I  went  on  the 
stage  when  I  was  eighteen,  and  succeeded  at  once. 
Had  I  known  anything  of  the  world,  or  been  four 
years  older,  I  should  have  been  weak,  awkward,  timid, 
and  flat;  it  would  have  taken  me  twelve  years  to 
crawl  to  the  front.  But  I  was  young,  passionate, 
beautiful,  and  indeed  terrible;  for  I  had  run  away 
from  home  two  years  before,  and  been  cruelly  deceived. 
I  learned  the  business  of  the  stage  as  easily  and 
thoughtlessly  as  a  child  learns  a  prayer;  the  rest  came 
to  me  by  nature.  I  have  seen  others  spend  years  in 
struggling  with  bad  voices,  uncouth  figures,  and 
diffidence  ;  besides  a  dozen  defects  that  existed  only 
in  their  imaginations.  Their  struggles  may  have  edu- 
cated them;  but  had  they  possessed  sufficient  genius 
they  would  have  had  neither  struggle  nor  education. 
Perhaps  that  is  why  geniuses  are  such  erratic  people, 
and  mediocrities  so  respectable.  I  grant  you  that  I 
was  very  limited  when  I  first  came  out;  I  was  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  comedy.  But  I  never  took  any 
trouble  about  it;  and  by  and  by,  when  I  began  to 
mature  a  little,  and  to  see  the  absurdity  of  most  of  the 
things  I  had  been  making  a  fuss  about,  comedy  came 
to  me  unsought,  as  romantic  tragedy  had  come  before. 
I  suppose  it  would  have  come  just  the  same  if  I  had 

218 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

been  laboring  to  acquire  it,  except  that  I  would  have 
attributed  its  arrival  to  my  own  exertions.  Most  of 
the  laborious  people  think  they  have  made  themselves 
what  they  are — much  as  if  a  child  should  think  it  had 
made  itself  grow." 

"  You  are  the  first  artist  I  ever  met,"  said  Lydia, 
"  who  did  not  claim  art  as  the  most  laborious  of  all 
avocations.  They  all  deny  the  existence  of  genius, 
and  attribute  everything  to  work." 

"  Of  course  one  picks  up  a  great  deal  from  experi- 
ence; and  there  is  plenty  of  work  on  the  stage.  But 
it  is  my  genius  which  enables  me  to  pick  up  things, 
and  to  work  on  the  stage  instead  of  in  a  kitchen  or 
laundry." 

"  You  must  be  very  fond  of  your  profession." 

"  I  do  not  mind  it  now;  I  have  shrunk  to  fit  it.  I 
began  because  I  couldn't  help  myself;  and  I  go  on 
because,  being  an  old  woman,  I  have  nothing  else  to 
do.  Bless  me,  how  I  hated  it  after  the  first  month  ! 
I  must  retire  soon,  now.  People  are  growing  weary 
of  me." 

"  I  doubt  that.  I  am  bound  to  assume  that  you 
are  an  old  woman,  since  you  say  so;  but  you  must  be 
aware,  flattery  apart,  that  you  hardly  seem  to  have 
reached  your  prime  yet." 

"  I  might  be  your  mother,  my  dear.  I  might  be  a 
grandmother.  Perhaps  lam."  There  was  a  plain- 
tive tone  in  the  last  sentence;  and  Lydia  seized  the 
opportunity. 

"You  spoke  of  maternity  then  from  experience, 
Miss  Gisborne?" 

219 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  I  have  one  son — a  son  who  was  sent  to  me  in  my 
eighteenth  year." 

"  I  hope  he  inherits  his  mother's  genius  and  per- 
sonal grace." 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  pen- 
sively. "  He  was  a  perfect  devil.  I  fear  I  shock  you, 
Miss  Carew;  but  really  I  did  everything  for  him  that 
the  most  devoted  mother  could  do;  and  yet  he  ran 
away  from  me  without  making  a  sign  of  farewell. 
Little  wretch  ! " 

"  Boys  do  cruel  things  sometimes  in  a  spirit  of  ad- 
venture," said  Lydia,  watching  her  visitor's  face  nar- 
rowly. 

"It  was  not  that.  It  was  his  temper,  which  was 
ungovernable.  He  was  sulky  and  vindictive.  It  is 
quite  impossible  to  love  a  sulky  child.  I  kept  him 
constantly  near  me  when  he  was  a  tiny  creature;  and 
when  he  got  too  big  for  that  I  spent  oceans  of  money 
on  his  education.  All  in  vain  !  He  never  showed 
any  feeling  towards  me  except  a  sense  of  injury  that 
no  kindness  could  remove.  And  he  had  nothing  to 
complain  of.     Never  was  there  a  worse  son." 

Lydia  remained  silent  and  grave.  Mrs.  Byron 
looked  rather  beside  her  than  at  her.  Suddenly  she 
added, 

"  My  poor,  darling  Cashel "  (Lydia  suppressed  a 
start),  "  what  a  shame  to  talk  of  you  so  !  You  see,  I 
love  him  in  spite  of  his  wickedness."  Mrs.  Byron 
took  out  her  handkerchief,  and  Lydia  for  a  moment 
was  alarmed  by  the  prospect  of  tears.  But  Miss  Gis- 
borne  only  blew  her  nose  with  perfect  composure,  and 

220 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

rose  to  take  her  leave.  Lydia,  who,  apart  from  her 
interest  in  Cashel's  mother,  was  attracted  and  amused 
by  the  woman  herself,  induced  her  to  stay  for  lunch- 
eon, and  presently  discovered  from  her  conversation 
that  she  had  read  much  romance  of  the  Werther  sort 
in  her  youth,  and  had,  since  then,  employed  her  leis- 
ure in  reading  every  book  that  came  in  her  way  with- 
out regard  to  its  quality.  Her  acquirements  were  so 
odd,  and  her  character  so  unreasonable,  that  Lydia, 
whose  knowledge  was  unusually  well  organized,  and 
who  was  eminently  reasonable,  concluded  that  she  was 
a  woman  of  genius.  For  Lydia  knew  the  vanity  of 
her  own  attainments,  and  believed  herself  to  be  merely 
a  patient  and  well-taught  plodder.  Mrs.  Byron  hap- 
pening to  be  pleased  with  the  house,  the  luncheon,  and 
Lydia's  intelligent  listening,  her  unaccountable  natural 
charm  became  so  intensified  by  her  good-humor  that 
Lydia  became  conscious  of  it,  and  began  to  wonder  what 
its  force  might  have  been  if  some  influence — that  of 
a  lover,  for  instance — had  ever  made  Mrs.  Byron  ecstat- 
ically happy.  She  surprised  herself  at  last  in  the  act 
of  speculating  whether  she  could  ever  make  Cashel 
love  her  as  his  father  must,  for  a  time  at  least,  have 
loved  her  visitor. 

When  Lydia  was  alone,  she  considered  whether  she 
was  justified  in  keeping  Mrs.  Byron  apart  from  her 
son.  It  seemed  plain  that  at  present  Cashel  was  a 
disgrace  to  his  mother,  and  had  better  remain  hidden 
from  her.  But  if  he  should  for  any  reason  abandon 
his  ruffianly  pursuits,  as  she  had  urged  him  to  do, 
then  she  could  bring  about  a  meeting  between  them; 

221 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

and  the  truant's  mother  might  take  better  care  of 
him  in  the  future,  besides  making  him  pecuniarily 
independent  of  prize-fighting.  This  led  Lydia  to  ask 
what  new  profession  Cashel  could  adopt,  and  what 
likelihood  there  was  of  his  getting  on  with  his  mother 
any  better  than  formerly.  No  satisfactory  answer  was 
forthcoming.  So  she  went  back  to  the  likelihood  of 
his  reforming  himself  for  her  sake.  On  this  theme 
her  imagination  carried  her  so  far  from  all  reasonable 
probability,  that  she  was  shaking  her  head  at  her  own 
folly  when  Bashville  appeared  and  announced  Lord 
Worthington,  who  came  into  the  room  with  Alice. 
Lydia  had  not  seen  him  since  her  discovery  of  the  true 
position  of  the  tenant  he  had  introduced  to  her,  and 
he  was  consequently  a  little  afraid  to  meet  her.  To 
cover  his  embarrassment,  he  began  to  talk  quickly 
on  a  number  of  commonplace  topics.  But  when 
some  time  had  elapsed,  he  began  to  show  signs  of 
fresh  uneasiness.  He  looked  at  his  watch,  and 
said, 

"I  don't  wish  to  hurry  you,  ladies;  but  this  affair 
commences  at  three." 

"  What  affair?  "  said  Lydia,  who  had  been  privately 
wondering  why  he  had  come. 

"The  assault-at-arms.  King  What's-his-name's 
affair.  Webber  told  me  he  had  arranged  that  you 
should  come  with  me." 

"  Oh,  you  have  come  to  take  us  there.  I  had  for- 
gotten.    Did  I  promise  to  go  ?  " 

"  Webber  said  so.  He  was  to  have  taken  you  him- 
self; but,  failing  that,  he  promised  to  do  a  good  thing 

222 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

for  me  and  put  me  in  his  place.  He  said  you  particu- 
larly wanted  to  go,  hang  him  !  " 

Lydia  then  rose  promptly  and  sent  for  her  carriage. 
"There  is  no  hurry,"  she  said.  "We  can  drive  to 
St.  James's  Hall  in  twelve  minutes." 

"  But  we  have  to  go  to  Islington,  to  the  Agricul- 
tural Hall.  There  will  be  cavalry  charges,  and  all 
sorts  of  fun." 

"Bless  me!"  said  Lydia.  "Will  there  be  any 
boxing?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lord  Worthington,  reddening,  but  un- 
abashed. "Lots  of  it.  It  will  be  by  gentlemen, 
though,  except  perhaps  one  bout  to  show  the  o  d  king 
our  professional  form." 

"Then  excuse  me  while  I  go  for  my  ha V  said 
Lydia,  leaving  the  room.  Alice  had  gone  some  time 
before  to  make  a  complete  change  in  her  dress,  as  the 
occasion  was  one  for  display  of  that  kind. 

"You  look  awfully  fetching,  Miss  Goff,"  Lord 
Worthington  said,  as  he  followed  them  to  the  carriage. 
Alice  did  not  deign  to  reply,  but  tossed  her  head  su- 
perbly, and  secretly  considered  whether  people  would, 
on  comparison,  think  her  overdressed  or  Lydia  un- 
depressed. Lord  Worthington  thought  they  both 
looked  their  best,  and  reflected  for  several  seconds  on 
the  different  styles  of  different  women,  and  how  what 
would  suit  one  would  not  do  at  all  for  another.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Miss  Carew's  presence  made  him 
philosophical. 

The  Agricultural  Hall  struck  Alice  at  first  sight  as 
an  immense  barn  round  which  heaps  of  old  packing- 

223 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

cases  had  been  built  into  race-course  stands,  scantily 
decorated  with  red  cloth  and  a  few  flags.  She  was 
conducted  to  a  front  seat  in  one  of  these  balconies, 
which  overhung  the  tan-strewn  arena.  Just  below 
her  were  the  palisades,  ornamented  at  intervals  with 
evergreens  in  tubs,  and  pressed  against  from  without 
by  a  crowd  who  had  paid  a  shilling  apiece  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  admission.  She  remarked  that  it  was  little 
to  the  credit  of  the  management  that  these  people 
should  be  placed  so  close  beneath  her  that  she  c<*ild 
hear  their  conversation;  but  as  Lydia  did  not  seem  to 
share  her  disgust,  she  turned  her  attention  to  the  fash- 
ionable part  of  the  audience.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  arena  the  balconies  seemed  like  beds  of  flowers  in 
bloom,  blacknesses  formed  here  and  there  by  the  hats 
and  coats  of  gentlemen  representing  the  interspaces  of 
clay.  In  the  midst  of  the  flowers  was  a  gaudy  dais, 
on  which  a  powerfully-built  black  gentleman  sat  in  a 
raised  chair,  his  majestic  impassivity  contrasting  with 
the  overt  astonishment  with  which  a  row  of  savagely 
ugly  attendant  chiefs  grinned  and  gaped  on  either  side 
of  him. 

"  What  a  pity  we  are  not  nearer  the  king  !  "  said 
Alice.     "  I  can  hardly  see  the  dear  old  fellow." 

"  You  will  find  these  the  best  seats  for  seeing  the 
assault.  It  will  be  all  right,"  said  Lord  Worthing- 
ton. 

Lydia's  attention  was  caught  by  something  guilty  in 
his  manner.  Following  a  furtive  glance  of  his,  she 
saw  in  the  arena,  not  far  from  her,  an  enclosure  about 
twenty  feet  square,  made  with  ropes  and  stakes.     It 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

was  unoccupied,  and  there  were  a  few  chairs,  a  basin, 
and  a  sponge,  near  it. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That !     Oh,  that's  the  ring." 

"  It  is  not  a  ring.     It  is  square." 

"  They  call  it  the  ring.  They  have  succeeded  in 
squaring  the  circle." 

Here  there  was  a  piercing  bugle-call,  and  a  troop  of 
cavalry  trotted  into  the  arena.  Lydia  found  it  pleas- 
ant*enough  to  sit  lazily  admiring  the  horses  and  men, 
and  comparing  the  members  of  the  Olympian  Club, 
who  appeared  when  the  soldiers  retired,  to  the  marble 
gods  of  Athens,  and  to  the  Bacchus  or  David  of 
Michael  Angelo.  They  fell  short  of  the  Greek  statues 
in  refinement,  and  of  the  Italian  in  impressive ness  as 
they  vaulted  over  a  wooden  horse,  and  swung  upon 
horizontal  bars,  each  cheapening  the  exploits  of  his 
forerunner  by  out-doing  them.  Lord  Worthington, 
who  soon  grew  tired  of  this,  whispered  that  when  all 
that  rubbish  was  over,  a  fellow  would  cut  a  sheep  in  two 
with  a  sword,  after  which  there  would  be  some  boxing. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Lydia,  indignantly, 
"  that  they  are  going  to  turn  a  sheep  loose  and  hunt 
it  on  horseback  with  swords?  " 

Lord  Worthington  laughed  and  said  yes;  but  it 
presently  appeared  that  by  a  sheep  was  meant  a  lean 
carcass  of  mutton.  A  stalwart  sergeant  cut  it  in  half  as 
a  climax  to  slicing  lemons,  bars  of  lead,  and  silk  hand- 
kerchiefs; and  the  audience,  accustomed  to  see  much 
more  disgusting  sights  in  butchers'  shops,  liberally 
applauded  him. 

15  225 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Two  gentlemen  of  the  Olympian  Club  now  entered 
the  enclosure  which  Lord  Worthington  called  the 
ring.  After  shaking  hands  with  one  another  as  well 
as  their  huge  padded  gloves  permitted,  they  hugged 
themselves  with  their  right  arms  as  if  there  were 
some  danger  of  their  stomachs  falling  out  if  not  held 
tightly  in,  and  danced  round  one  another,  throw- 
ing out  and  retracting  their  left  fists  like  pawing 
horses.  They  were  both,  as  Lydia  learned  from  the 
announcement  of  their  names  and  achievements  by  the 
master  of  the  ceremonies,  amateur  champions.  She 
thought  their  pawing  and  dancing  ridiculous;  and 
when  they  occasionally  rushed  together  and  scuffled, 
she  could  distinguish  nothing  of  the  leading  off,  stop- 
ping, ducking,  countering,  guarding,  and  getting 
away  to  which  Lord  Worthington  enthusiastically  in- 
vited her  attention,  and  which  elicited  alternate  jeers 
and  applause  from  the  shilling  audience  below.  She 
laughed  outright  when,  at  the  expiration  of  three  min- 
utes, the  two  dropped  supine  into  chairs  at  opposite 
corners  of  the  ring  as  if  they  had  sustained  excessive 
fatigue.  At  the  end  of  a  minute,  some  one  hoarsely 
cried  "  Time  !  "  and  they  rose  and  repeated  their  pre- 
vious performance  for  three  minutes  more.  Another 
minute  of  rest  followed;  and  then  the  dancing  and 
pawing  proceeded  for  four  minutes,  after  which  the 
champions  again  shook  hands  and  left  the  arena. 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

"That's  all,"  said  Lord  Worthington.  "It's  the 
most  innocent  thing  in  the  world,  and  the  prettiest." 

"  It  does  not  strike  me  as  being  pretty,"  said  Lydia; 
226 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"but  it  seems  as  innocent  as  inanity  can  make  it." 
Her  mind  misgave  her  that  she  had  ignorantly  and 
unjustly  reproached  Cashel  Byron  with  ferocity  merely 
because  he  practised  this  harmless  exercise. 

The  show  progressed  through  several  phases  of 
skilled  violence.  Besides  single  combats  between  men 
armed  in  various  fashions,  there  were  tilts,  tent-peg- 
gings, drilling  and  singlestick  practice  by  squads  of 
British  tars,  who  were  loudly  cheered,  and  more  box- 
ing and  vaulting  by  members  of  the  club.  Lydia's 
attention  soon  began  to  wander  from  the  arena.  Look- 
ing down  at  the  crowd  outside  the  palisades,  she  saw 
a  small  man  whom  she  vaguely  remembered,  though 
his  face  was  turned  from  her.  In  conversation  with 
him  was  a  powerful  man  dressed  in  a  yellow  tweed 
suit  and  green  scarf.  He  had  a  coarse,  strong  voice, 
and  his  companion  a  shrill,  mean  one,  so  that  their 
remarks  could  be  heard  by  an  attentive  listener  above 
the  confused  noise  of  the  crowd. 

"  Do  you  admire  that  man  ?  "  said  Lord  Worthing- 
ton,  following  Lydia's  gaze. 

"No.     Is  he  anybody  in  particular  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  great  man  once — in  the  days  of  the 
giants.  He  was  champion  of  England.  He  has  a 
special  interest  for  us  as  the  preceptor  of  a  mutual 
friend  of  ours." 

"  Please  name  him,"  said  Lydia,  intending  that  the 
mutual  friend  should  be  named. 

"Ned  Skene,' *  said  Lord  Worthington,  taking  her 
to  mean  the  man  below.  "  He  has  done  so  well  in  the 
colonies  that  he  has  indulged  himself  and  his  family 

227 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

with  a  trip  to  England.  His  arrival  made  quite  a 
sensation  in  this  country :  last  week  he  had  a  crowded 
benefit,  at  which  he  sparred  with  our  mutual  friend 
and  knocked  him  about  like  a  baby.  Our  mutual 
behaved  very  well  on  the  occasion  in  letting  himself 
be  knocked  about.  You  see  he  could  have  killed  old 
Skene  if  he  had  tried  in  earnest. " 

"  Is  that  Skene  ?  "  said  Lydia,  looking  at  him  with 
an  earnest  interest  that  astonished  Lord  Worthington. 
"Ah  !  Now  I  recognize  the  man  with  him.  He  is 
one  of  my  tenants  at  the  Warren  Lodge — I  believe  I 
am  indebted  to  you  for  the  introduction." 

"Mellish  the  trainer?"  said  Lord  Worthington, 
looking  a  little  foolish.  "So  it  is.  What  a  lovely 
bay  that  lancer  has  ! — the  second  from  the  far  end." 

But  Lydia  would  not  look  at  the  lancer's  horse. 
M  Paradise  !  "  she  heard  Skene  exclaim  just  then  with 
scornful  incredulity.  "Ain't  it  likely?"  It  oc- 
curred to  her  that  if  he  was  alluding  to  his  own  chance 
of  arriving  there,  it  was  not  likely. 

"Less  likely  things  have  happened,"  said  Mellish. 
"I  won't  say  that  Cashel  Byron  is  getting  stale;  but 
I  will  say  that  his  luck  is  too  good  to  last ;  and  I  know 
for  a  fact  that  he's  gone  quite  melancholy  of  late." 

"Melancholy  be  blowed  ! "  said  Skene.  "What 
should  he  go  melancholy  for  ?  " 

"Oh,  /know,"  said  Mellish,  reticently. 

"  You  know  a  lot,"  retorted  Skene  with  contempt. 
"I  s'pose  you  mean  the  young  'oman  he's  always 
talking  to  my  missis  about." 

"  I  mean  a  young  woman  that  he  ain't  likely  to  get. 
228 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

One  of  the  biggest  swells  in  England — a  little  un  with 
a  face  like  the  inside  of  a  oyster-shell,  that  he  met 
down  at  Wiltstoken,  where  I  trained  him  to  fight  the 
Flying  Dutchman.  He  went  right  off  his  training 
after  he  met  her — wouldn't  do  anything  I  told  him. 
I  made  so  cock-sure  that  he'd  be  licked  that  I  hedged 
every  penny  I  had  laid  on  him  except  twenty  pound 
that  I  got  a  flat  to  bet  agin  him  down  at  the  fight  after 
I  had  changed  my  mind.  Curse  that  woman  !  I  lost 
a  hundred  pound  by  her." 

"And  served  you  right,  too,  you  old  stupid.  You 
was  wrong  then;  and  you're  wrong  now,  with  your 
blessed  Paradise." 

"  Paradise  has  never  been  licked  yet." 

"  No  more  has  my  boy." 

"Well,  we'll  see." 

"  We'll  see  !  I  tell  you  I've  seed  for  myself.  I've 
seed  Billy  Paradise  spar;  and  it  ain't  fighting,  it's 
ruffianing:  that's  what  it  is.  Euflfianing  !  Why,  my 
old  missis  has  more  science." 

"  Mebbe  she  has,"  said  Mellish.  "  But  look  at  the 
men  he's  licked  that  were  chock  full  of  science. 
Shepstone,  clever  as  he  is,  only  won  a  fight  from  him 
by  claiming  a  foul,  because  Billy  lost  his  temper  and 
spiked  him.  That's  the  worst  of  Billy  ;  he  can't 
keep  his  feelings  in.  But  no  fine-lady  sparrer  can 
stand  afore  that  ugly  rush  of  his.  Do  you  think  he'll 
care  for  Cashel's  showy  long  shots?  Not  he:  he'll 
just  take  'em  on  that  mahogany  nut  of  his,  and  give 
him  back  one  o'  them  smashers  that  he  settled  poor 
Dick  Weeks  with." 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  I'll  lay  you  any  money  he  don't.  If  he  does,  I'll 
go  back  into  the  ring  myself,  and  bust  his  head  off 
for  it."  Here  Skene,  very  angry,  applied  several  epi- 
thets to  Paradise,  and  became  so  excited  that  Mellish 
had  to  soothe  him  by  partially  retracting  his  forebod- 
ings, and  asking  how  Cashel  had  been  of  late. 

"  He's  not  been  taking  care  of  himself  as  he 
oughter,"  said  Skene,  gloomily.  "  He's  showing  the 
London  fashions  to  the  missis  and  Fanny — they're 
here  in  the  three-and-sixpenny  seats,  among  the  swells. 
Theatres  every  night;  and  walks  every  day  to  see  the 
queen  drive  through  the  park,  or  the  like.  My  Fan 
likes  to  have  him  with  her  on  account  of  his  being 
such  a  gentleman:  she  don't  hardly  think  her  own 
father  not  good  enough  to  walk  down  Piccadilly  with. 
Wants  me  to  put  on  a  black  coat  and  make  a  parson 
of  myself.  The  missis  just  idolizes  him.  She  thinks 
the  boy  far  too  good  for  the  young  'oman  you  was 
speaking  of,  and  tells  him  that  she's  only  letting  on 
not  to  care  for  him  to  raise  her  price,  just  as  I  used  to 
pretend  to  be  getting  beat,  to  set  the  flats  betting  agin 
me.  The  women  always  made  a  pet  of  him.  In 
Melbourne  it  was  not  what  /  liked  for  dinner :  it  was 
always  what  the  boy  'ud  like,  and  when  it  'ud  please 
him  to  have  it.  I'm  blest  if  I  usen't  to  have  to  put 
him  up  to  ask  for  a  thing  when  I  wanted  it  myself. 
And  you  tell  me  that  that's  the  lad  that's  going  to  let 
Billy  Paradise  lick  him,  I  s'pose.     Walker  !  " 

Lydia,  with  Mrs.  Byron's  charm  fresh  upon  her, 
wondered  what  manner  of  woman  this  Mrs.  Skene 
could  be  who  had  supplanted  her  in  the  affections  of 

230 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

her  son,  and  yet  was  no  more  than  a  prize-fighter's 
old  missis.  Evidently  she  was  not  one  to  turn  a  young 
man  from  a  career  in  the  ring.  Again  the  theme  of 
CashePs  occupation  and  the  chances  of  his  quitting  it 
ran  away  with  Lydia's  attention.  She  sat  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  arena,  without  seeing  the  soldiers, 
swordsmen,  or  athletes  who  were  busy  there;  her  mind 
wandered  further  and  further  from  the  place ;  and  the 
chattering  of  the  people  resolved  itself  into  a  distant 
hum  and  was  forgotten. 

Suddenly  she  saw  a  dreadful-looking  man  coming 
towards  her  across  the  arena.  His  face  had  the  sur- 
face and  color  of  blue  granite;  his  protruding  jaws  and 
retreating  forehead  were  like  those  of  an  orang-ou- 
tang. She  started  from  her  reverie  with  a  shiver,  and, 
recovering  her  hearing  as  well  as  her  vision  of  external 
things,  became  conscious  of  an  attempt  to  applaud  this 
apparition  by  a  few  persons  below.  The  man  grinned 
ferociously,  placed  one  hand  on  a  stake  of  the  ring, 
and  vaulted  over  the  ropes.  Lydia  now  remarked 
that,  excepting  his  hideous  head  and  enormous  hands 
and  feet,  he  was  a  well-made  man,  with  loins  and 
shoulders  that  shone  in  the  light,  and  gave  him  an  air 
of  great  strength  and  activity. 

"Ain't  he  a  picture?  "  she  heard  Mellish  exclaim, 
ecstatically.     "  There's  condition  for  you  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Skene,  disparagingly.  "  But  ain't  Tie 
the  gentleman  !  Just  look  at  him.  It's  like  the 
Prince  of  Wales  walking  down  Pall  Mall." 

Lydia,  hearing  this,  looked  again,  and  saw  Cashel 
Byron,  exactly  as  she  had  seen  him  for  the  first  time 

231 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

in  the  elm  vista  at  "Wiltstoken,  approaching  the  ring 
with  the  indifferent  air  of  a  man  going  through  some 
tedious  public  ceremony. 

"  A  god  coming  down  to  compete  with  a  gladiator," 
whispered  Lord  Worthington,  eagerly.  "Isn't  it, 
Miss  Oarew  ?  .  Apollo  and  the  satyr  !  You  must 
admit  that  our  mutual  friend  is  a  splendid-looking 
fellow.  If  he  could  go  into  society  like  that,  by  Jove, 
the  women — " 

"Hush,"  said  Lydia,  as  if  his  words  were  intoler- 
able. 

Cashel  did  not  vault  over  the  ropes.  He  stepped 
through  them  languidly,  and,  rejecting  the  proffered 
assistance  of  a  couple  of  officious  friends,  drew  on  a 
boxing-glove  fastidiously,  like  an  exquisite  preparing 
for  a  fashionable  promenade.  Having  thus  muffled 
his  left  hand  so  as  to  make  it  useless  for  the  same  ser- 
vice to  his  right,  he  dipped  his  fingers  into  the  other 
glove,  gripped  it  between  his  teeth,  and  dragged  it 
on  with  the  action  of  a  tiger  tearing  its  prey.  Lydia 
shuddered  again. 

"  Bob  Mellish,"  said  Skene,  "  I'll  lay  you  twenty  to 
one  he  stops  that  rush  that  you  think  so  much  of. 
Come:  twenty  to  one  !  " 

Mellish  shook  his  head.  Then  the  master  of  the 
ceremonies,  pointing  to  the  men  in  succession,  shouted, 
"Paradise:  a  professor.  Cashel  Byron:  a  professor. 
Time  ! " 

Cashel  now  looked  at  Paradise,  of  whose  existence 
he  had  not  before  seemed  to  be  aware.  The  two  men 
advanced  towards  the  centre  of  the  ring,  shook  hands 

232 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

at  arm's-length,  cast  off  each  other's  grasp  suddenly, 
fell  back  a  step,  and  began  to  move  warily  round  one 
another  from  left  to  right  like  a  pair  of  panthers. 

"  I  think  they  might  learn  manners  from  the  gen- 
tlemen, and  shake  hands  cordially,"  said  Alice,  trying 
to  appear  unconcerned,  but  oppressed  by  a  vague  dread 
of  Oashel. 

"  That's  the  traditional  manner,"  said  Lord  Worth- 
ington.  "It  is  done  that  way  to  prevent  one  from 
holding  the  other;  pulling  him  over,  and  hitting  him 
with  the  disengaged  hand  before  he  could  get  loose." 

"  What  abominable  treachery  !  "  exclaimed  Lydia. 

"It's  never  done,  you  know,"  said  Lord  Worthing- 
ton,  apologetically.     "  Only  it  might  be." 

Lydia  turned  away  from  him,  and  gave  all  her  atten- 
tion to  the  boxers.  Of  the  two,  Paradise  shocked  her 
least.  He  was  evidently  nervous  and  conscious  of  a 
screwed-up  condition  as  to  his  courage;  but  his  sly 
grin  implied  a  wild  sort  of  good-humor,  and  seemed  to 
promise  the  spectators  that  he  would  show  them  some 
fun  presently.  Cashel  watched  his  movements  with  a 
relentless  vigilance  and  a  sidelong  glance  in  which,  to 
Lydia's  apprehension,  there  was  something  infernal. 

Suddenly  the  eyes  of  Paradise  lit  up:  he  lowered 
his  head,  made  a  rush,  balked  himself  purposely,  and 
darted  at  Cashel.  There  was  a  sound  like  the  pop  of 
a  champagne-cork,  after  which  Cashel  was  seen  undis- 
turbed in  the  middle  of  the  ring,  and  Paradise,  flung 
against  the  ropes  and  trying  to  grin  at  his  discomfiture, 
showed  his  white  teeth  through  a  mask  of  blood. 

"  Beautiful  !  "  cried  Skene  with  emotion.     "  Beau- 
233 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

tiful  !  There  ain't  but  me  and  my  boy  in  the  world 
can  give  the  upper  cut  like  that !  I  wish  I  could  see 
my  old  missis's  face  now  !     This  is  nuts  to  her." 

"  Let  us  go  away/'  said  Alice. 

"  That  was  a  very  different  blow  to  any  that  the 
gentlemen  gave,"  said  Lydia,  without  heeding  her,  to 
Lord  Worthington.    "  The  man  is  bleeding  horribly." 

"It's  only  his  nose,"  said  Lord  Worthington. 
"He's  used  to  it." 

Meanwhile  Cashel  had  followed  Paradise  to  the 
ropes. 

"Now  he  has  him,"  chuckled  Skene.  "My  boy's 
got  him  agin  the  ropes;  and  he  means  to  keep  him 
there.  Let  him  rush  now,  if  he  can.  See  what  ifc  is 
to  have  a  good  judgment." 

Mellish  shook  his  head  again  despondently.  The 
remaining  minutes  of  the  round  were  unhappy  ones 
for  Paradise.  He  struck  viciously  at  his  opponent's 
ribs;  but  Cashel  stepped  back  just  out  of  his  reach, 
and  then  returned  with  extraordinary  swiftness  and 
dealt  him  blows  from  which,  with  the  ropes  behind 
him,  he  had  no  room  to  retreat,  and  which  he  was  too 
slow  to  stop  or  avoid.  His  attempts  to  reach  his  enemy's 
face  were  greatly  to  the  disadvantage  of  his  own ;  for 
Cashel's  blows  were  never  so  tremendous  as  when  he 
turned  his  head  deftly  out  of  harm's  way,  and  met  his 
advancing  foe  with  a  counter  hit.  He  showed  no  chiv- 
alry and  no  mercy,  and  revelled  in  the  hardness  of  his 
hitting;  his  gloves  either  resounding  on  Paradise's  face 
or  seeming  to  go  almost  through  his  body.  There  was 
little  semblance  to   a  contest:    to  Lydia  there  was 

234 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

nothing  discernible  but  a  cruel  assault  by  an  irresist- 
ible athlete  on  a  helpless  victim.  The  better  sort  among 
the  spectators  were  disgusted  by  the  sight;  for,  as 
Paradise  bled  profusely,  and  as  his  blood  besmeared  the 
gloves  and  the  gloves  besmeared  the  heads  and  bodies 
of  both  combatants,  they  were  soon  stained  with  it 
from  their  waists  upward.  The  managers  held  a  whis- 
pered consultation  as  to  whether  the  sparring  exhibi- 
tion had  not  better  be  stopped ;  but  they  decided  to  let 
it  proceed  on  seeing  the  African  king,  who  had 
watched  the  whole  entertainment  up  to  the  present 
without  displaying  the  least  interest,  now  raise  his 
hands  and  clap  them  with  delight. 

"Billy  don't  look  half  pleased  with  hisself,"  ob- 
served Mellish,  as  the  two  boxers  sat  down.  "He 
looks  just  like  he  did  when  he  spiked  Shepstone." 

"  What  does  spiking  mean  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

"Treading  on  a  man's  foot  with  spiked  boots," 
replied  Lord  Worthington.  "  Don't  be  alarmed;  they 
have  no  spikes  in  their  shoes  to-day.  It  is  not  my  fault 
that  they  do  such  things,  Miss  Carew.  Really,  you 
make  me  feel  quite  criminal  when  you  look  at  me  in 
that  way." 

Time  was  now  called;  and  the  pugilists,  who  had, 
by  dint  of  sponging,  been  made  somewhat  cleaner, 
rose  with  mechanical  promptitude  at  the  sound. 
Cashel  had  hardly  advanced  two  steps  when,  though 
his  adversary  seemed  far  out  of  his  reach,  he  struck 
him  on  the  forehead  with  such  force  as  to  stagger  him, 
and  then  jumped  back  laughing.  Paradise  rushed  for- 
ward ;  but  Cashel  eluded  him,  and  fled  round  the  ring, 

235 


Cashel  Byron  s  Profession 

looking  back  derisively  over  his  shoulder.  Paradise 
now  dropped  all  pretence  of  good-humor.  With  an 
expression  of  reckless  ferocity,  he  dashed  at  Cashel; 
endured  a  startling  blow  without  flinching,  and  en- 
gaged him  at  close  quarters.  For  a  moment  the  fall- 
ing of  their  blows  reminded  Lydia  of  the  rush  of  rain- 
drops against  a  pane  in  a  sudden  gust  of  wind.  The 
next  moment  Cashel  was  away;  and  Paradise,  whose 
blood  was  again  flowing,  was  trying  to  repeat  his  ma- 
noeuvre, to  be  met  this  time  by  a  blow  that  brought 
him  upon  one  knee.  He  had  scarcely  risen  when 
Cashel  sprang  at  him;  dealt  him  four  blows  with  daz- 
zling rapidity;  drove  him  once  more  against  the 
ropes;  but  this  time,  instead  of  keeping  him  there, 
ran  away  in  the  manner  of  a  child  at  play.  Paradise, 
with  foam  as  well  as  blood  at  his  lips,  uttered  a  howl, 
and  tore  off  his  gloves.  There  was  a  shout  of  protest 
from  the  audience;  and  Cashel,  warned  by  it,  tried 
to  get  off  his  gloves  in  turn.  But  Paradise  was  upon 
him  before  he  could  accomplish  this,  and  the  two 
men  laid  hold  of  one  another  amid  a  great  clamor, 
Lord  Worthington  and  others  rising  and  excitedly 
shouting,  "Against  the  rules!  No  wrestling!" 
followed  by  a  roar  of  indignation  as  Paradise  was  seen 
to  seize  Cashel's  shoulder  in  his  teeth  as  they  struggled 
for  the  throw.  Lydia,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
screamed.  Then  she  saw  Cashel,  his  face  fully  as 
fierce  as  Paradise's,  get  his  arm  about  his  neck;  lift 
him  as  a  coal-heaver  lifts  a  sack,  and  fling  him  over 
his  back,  heels  over  head,  to  the  ground,  where  he 
instantly  dropped  on  him  with  his  utmost  weight  and 

236 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

impetus.  The  two  were  at  once  separated  by  a  crowd 
of  managers,  umpires,  policemen,  and  others  who  had 
rushed  towards  the  ring  when  Paradise  had  taken  off 
his  gloves.  A  distracting  wrangle  followed.  Skene 
had  climbed  over  the  palisade,  and  was  hurling  oaths, 
threats,  and  epithets  at  Paradise,  who,  unable  to  stand 
without  assistance,  was  trying  to  lift  his  leaden  eye- 
lids and  realize  what  had  happened  to  him.  A  dozen 
others  were  trying  to  bring  him  to  his  senses,  remon- 
strating with  him  on  his  conduct,  or  trying  to  pacify 
Skene.  Cashel,  on  the  other  side,  raged  at  the  mana- 
gers, who  were  reminding  him  that  the  rules  of  glove- 
fighting  did  not  allow  wrestling  and  throwing. 

"Kules  be  d d,"  Lydia  heard  him  shouting. 

"  He  bit  me;  and  I'll  throw  him  to — "  Then  every- 
body spoke  at  once;  and  she  could  only  conjecture 
where  he  would  throw  him  to.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  self-control:  Paradise,  when  he  came  to  himself, 
behaved  better.  Lord  Worthington  descended  into 
the  ring  and  tried  to  calm,  the  hubbub;  but  Cashel 
shook  his  hand  fiercely  from  his- arm;  menaced  a  man- 
ager who  attempted  to  call  him  sternly  to  order;  fran- 
tically pounded  his  wounded  shoulder  with  his  clenched 
fist,  and  so  outswore  and  outwrangled  them  all,  that 
even  Skene  began  to  urge  that  there  had  been  enough 
fuss  made.  Then  Lord  Worthington  whispered  a 
word  more;  and  Cashel  suddenly  subsided,  pale  and 
ashamed,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair  in  his  corner  as  if 
to  hide  himself.  Five  minutes  afterwards,  he  stepped 
out  from  the  crowd  with  Paradise,  and  shook  hands 
with  him  amid  much  cheering.     Cashel  was  the  hum- 

237 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

bier  of  the  two.  He  did  not  raise  his  eyes  to  the  bal- 
cony once;  and  he  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  retire.  But  he 
was  intercepted  by  an  officer  in  uniform,  accompanied 
by  a  black  chief,  who  came  to  conduct  him  to  the  dais 
and  present  him  to  the  African  king;  an  honor  which 
he  was  not  permitted  to  decline. 

The  king  informed  him,  through  an  interpreter, 
that  he  had  been  unspeakably  gratified  by  what  he  had 
just  witnessed;  expressed  great  surprise  that  Cashel, 
notwithstanding  his  prowess,  was  neither  in  the  army 
nor  in  Parliament;  and  finally  offered  to  provide  him 
with  three  handsome  wives  if  he  would  come  out  to 
Africa  in  his  suite.  Cashel  was  much  embarrassed; 
but  he  came  off  with  credit,  thanks  to  the  interpreter, 
who  was  accustomed  to  invent  appropriate  speeches 
for  the  king  on  public  occasions,  and  was  kind  enough 
to  invent  equally  appropriate  ones  for  Cashel  on  this. 

Meanwhile,  Lord  Worthington  had  returned  to  his 
place.  "It  is  all  settled  now,"  he  said  to  Lydia. 
"Byron  shut  up  when  I  told  him  his  aristocratic 
friends  were  looking  at  him;  and  Paradise  has  been 
so  bullied  that  he  is  crying  in  a  corner  down-stairs. 
He  has  apologized ;  but  he  still  maintains  that  he  can 
beat  our  mutual  friend  without  the  gloves  ;  and  his 
backers  apparently  think  so  too,  for  it  is  understood 
that  they  are  to  fight  in  the  autumn  for  a  thousand 
a  side." 

"  To  fight !  Then  he  has  no  intention  of  giving 
up  his  profession  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  said  Lord  Worthington,  astonished.  "  Why 
on  earth  should  he  give  it  up  ?    Paradise's  money  is 

238 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

as  good  as  in  his  pocket.  You  have  seen  what  he 
can  do." 

"  I  have  seen  enough.  Alice,  I  am  ready  to  go  as 
soon  as  you  are." 

Early  in  the  following  week  Miss  Oarew  returned  to 
"Wiltstoken.  Miss  Goff  remained  in  London  to  finish 
the  season  in  charge  of  a  friendly  lady  who,  having 
married  off  all  her  own  daughters,  was  willing  to  set 
to  work  again  to  marry  Alice  sooner  than  remain  idle. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Alice  was  more  at  her  ease  during  the  remnant  of 
the  London  season.  Though  she  had  been  proud  of 
her  connection  with  Lydia,  she  had  always  felt  eclipsed 
in  her  presence;  and  now  that  Lydia  was  gone,  the 
pride  remained  and  the  sense  of  inferiority  was  forgot- 
ten. Her  freedom  emboldened  and  improved  her. 
She  even  began  to  consider  her  own  judgment  a  safer 
guide  in  the  affairs  of  every  day  than  the  example  of 
her  patroness.  Had  she  not  been  right  in  declaring 
Cashel  Byron  an  ignorant  and  common  man  when 
Lydia,  in  spite  of  her  warning,  had  actually  invited 
him  to  visit  them  ?  And  now  all  the  newspapers  were 
confirming  the  opinion  she  had  been  trying  to  impress 
on  Lydia  for  months  past.  On  the  evening  of  the 
assault-at-arms,  the  newsmen  had  shouted  through  the 
streets,  "Disgraceful  scene  between  two  pugilists  at 
Islington  in  the  presence  of  the  African  king."  Next 
day  the  principal  journals  commented  on  the  recent 
attempt  to  revive  the  brutal  pastime  of  prize-fighting; 
accused  the  authorities  of  conniving  at  it,  and  called 
on  them  to  put  it  down  at  once  with  a  strong  hand. 
"Unless,"  said  a  clerical  organ,  "this  plague-spot 
be  rooted  out  from  our  midst,  it  will  no  longer  be 
possible  for  our  missionaries  to  pretend  that  Eng- 
land is  the  fount  of  the  Gospel  of  Peace."    Alice 

240 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

collected  these  papers,  and  forwarded  them  to  Wilts- 
token. 

On  this  subject  one  person  at  least  shared  her  bias. 
Whenever  she  met  Lucian  Webber,  they  talked  about 
Cashel,  invariably  coming  to  the  conclusion  that 
though  the  oddity  of  his  behavior  had  gratified  Lydia's 
unfortunate  taste  for  eccentricity,  she  had  never  re- 
garded him  with  serious  interest,  and  would  not  now, 
under  any  circumstances,  renew  her  intercourse  with 
him.  Lucian  found  little  solace  in  these  conversa- 
tions, and  generally  suffered  from  a  vague  sense  of 
meanness  after  them.  Yet  next  time  they  met  he 
would  drift  into  discussing  Cashel  over  again ;  and  he 
always  rewarded  Alice  for  the  admirable  propriety  of 
her  views  by  dancing  at  least  three  times  with  her 
when  dancing  was  the  business  of  the  evening.  The 
dancing  was  still  less  congenial  than  the  conversation. 
Lucian,  who  had  at  all  times  too  much  of  the  so- 
lemnity of  manner  for  which  Frenchmen  reproach 
Englishmen,  danced  stiffly  and  unskilfully.  Alice, 
whose  muscular  power  and  energy  were  superior  to 
anything  of  the  kind  that  Mr.  Mellish  could  artificially 
produce,  longed  for  swift  motion  and  violent  exercise, 
and,  even  with  an  expert  partner,  could  hardly  tame 
herself  to  the  quietude  of  dancing  as  practised  in 
London.  When  waltzing  with  Lucian  she  felt  as 
though  she  were  carrying  a  stick  round  the  room  in 
the  awkward  fashion  in  which  Punch  carries  his 
baton.  In  spite  of  her  impression  that  he  was  a  man 
of  unusually  correct  morals  and  great  political  impor- 
tance, and  greatly  to  be  considered  in  private  life 
16  241 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

because  he  was  Miss  Carew's  cousin,  it  was  hard  to 
spend  quarter-hours  with  him  that  some  of  the  best 
dancers  in  London  asked  for. 

She  began  to  tire  of  the  subject  of  Cashel  and 
Lydia.  She  began  to  tire  of  Lucian's  rigidity.  She 
began  to  tire  exceedingly  of  the  vigilance  she  had  to 
maintain  constantly  over  her  own  manners  and  prin- 
ciples. Somehow,  this  vigilance  defeated  itself;  for 
she  one  evening  overheard  a  lady  of  rank  speak  of 
her  as  a  stuck-up  country  girl.  The  remark  gave 
her  acute  pain:  for  a  week  afterwards  she  did  not 
utter  a  word  or  make  a  movement  in  society  without 
first  considering  whether  it  could  by  any  malicious 
observer  be  considered  rustic  or  stuck-up.  But  the 
more  she  strove  to  attain  perfect  propriety  of  de- 
meanor, the  more  odious  did  she  seem  to  herself, 
and,  she  inferred,  to  others.  She  longed  for  Lydia's 
secret  of  always  doing  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
moment,  even  when  defying  precedent.  Sometimes 
she  blamed  the  dulness  of  the  people  she  met  for  her 
shortcomings.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be  stiff  with 
them.  When  she  chatted  with  an  entertaining  man, 
who  made  her  laugh  and  forget  herself  for  a  while, 
she  was  conscious  afterwards  of  having  been  at  her 
best  with  him.  But  she  saw  others  who,  in  stupid 
society,  were  pleasantly  at  their  ease.  She  began  to 
fear  at  last  that  she  was  naturally  disqualified  by  her 
comparatively  humble  birth  from  acquiring  the  well- 
bred  air  for  which  she  envied  those  among  whom  she 
moved. 

One  day  she  conceived  a  doubt  whether  Lucian  was 
242 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

bo  safe  an  authority  and  example  in  matters  of  per- 
sonal deportment  as  she  had  hitherto  unthinkingly 
believed.  He  could  not  dance;  his  conversation  was 
priggish;  it  was  impossible  to  feel  at  ease  when  speak- 
ing to  him.  Was  it  courageous  to  stand  in  awe  of  his 
opinion  ?  Was  it  courageous  to  stand  in  awe  of  any- 
body ?  Alice  closed  her  lips  -  proudly  and  began  to 
feel  defiant.  Then  a  reminiscence,  which  had  never 
before  failed  to  rouse  indignation  in  her,  made  her 
laugh.  She  recalled  the  scandalous  spectacle  of 
Lucian's  formal  perpendicularity  overbalanced  and 
doubled  up  into  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  gilded  arm-chair  in 
illustration  of  the  prize-fighter's  theory  of  effort  defeat- 
ing itself.  After  all,  what  was  that  caressing  touch  of 
Cashel's  hand  in  comparison  with  the  tremendous  rat' 
apian  he  had  beaten  on  the  ribs  of  Paradise?  Could 
it  be  true  that  effort  defeated  itself — in  personal  be- 
havior, for  instance  ?  A  ray  of  the  truth  that  under- 
lay Cashel's  grotesque  experiment  was  flickering  in 
her  mind  as  she  asked  herself  that  question.  She 
thought  a  good  deal  about  it;  and  one  afternoon, 
when  she  looked  in  at  four  at-homes  in  succession, 
she  studied  the  behavior  of  the  other  guests  from  a 
new  point  of  view,  comparing  the  most  mannered  with 
the  best  mannered,  and  her  recent  self  with  both. 
The  result  half  convinced  her  that  she  had  been  occu- 
pied during  her  first  London  season  in  displaying,  at 
great  pains,  a  very  unripe  self-consciousness — or,  as 
she  phrased  it,  in  making  an  insufferable  fool  of  her- 
self. 

Shortly  afterwards,  she  met  Lucian  at  a  Cinderella, 
243 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

or  dancing-party  concluding  at  midnight.  He  came 
at  eleven,  and,  as  usual,  gravely  asked  whether  he 
might  have  the  pleasure  of  dancing  with  her.  This 
form  of  address  he  never  varied.  To  his  surprise,  she 
made  some  difficulty  about  granting  the  favor,  and 
eventually  offered  him  "the  second  extra."  He 
bowed.  Before  he  could  resume  a  vertical  position  a 
young  man  came  up,  remarked  that  he  thought  this 
was  his  turn,  and  bore  Alice  away.  Lucian  smiled 
indulgently,  thinking  that  though  Alice's  manners 
were  wonderfully  good,  considering  her  antecedents, 
yet  she  occasionally  betrayed  a  lower  tone  than  that 
which  he  sought  to  exemplify  in  his  own  person. 

"I  wish  you  would  learn  to  reverse,"  said  Alice 
unexpectedly  to  him,  when  they  had  gone  round  the 
room  twice  to  the  strains  of  the  second  extra. 

"I  do  reverse,"  he  said,  taken  aback,  and  a  little 
indignant. 

"  Everybody  does — that  way." 

This  silenced  him  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said, 
slowly,  "  Perhaps  I  am  rather  out  of  practice.  I  am 
not  sure  that  reversing  is  quite  desirable.  Many  peo- 
ple consider  it  bad  form." 

When  they  stopped — Alice  was  always  willing  to 
rest  during  a  waltz  with  Lucian — he  asked  her  whether 
she  had  heard  from  Lydia. 

"You  always  ask  me  that,"  she  replied.  "Lydia 
never  writes  except  when  she  has  something  particular 
to  say,  and  then  only  a  few  lines." 

"  Precisely.  But  she  might  have  had  something 
particular  to  say  since  we  last  met." 

244 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"She  hasn't  had,"  said  Alice,  provoked  by  an 
almost  arch  smile  from  him. 

"  She  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  have  at  last  suc- 
ceeded in  recovering  possession  of  the  Warren  Lodge 
from  its  undesirable  tenants." 

"  I  thought  they  went  long  ago,"  said  Alice,  indif- 
ferently. 

"The  men  have  not  been  there  for  a  month  or 
more.  The  difficulty  was  to  get  them  to  remove  their 
property.  However,  we  are  rid  of  them  now.  The 
only  relic  of  their  occupation  is  a  Bible  with  half  the 
leaves  torn  out,  and  the  rest  scrawled  with  records  of 
bets,  recipes  for  sudorific  and  other  medicines,  and  a 
mass  of  unintelligible  memoranda.  One  inscription,  in 
faded  ink,  runs,  '  To  Eobert  Mellish,  from  his  affec- 
tionate mother,  with  her  sincere  hope  that  he  may 
ever  walk  in  the  ways  of  this  book.'  I  am  afraid  that 
hope  was  not  fulfilled." 

"  How  wicked  of  him  to  tear  a  Bible  !  "  said  Alice, 
seriously.  Then  she  laughed,  and  added,  "  I  know  I 
shouldn't;  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"  The  incident  strikes  me  rather  as  being  pathetic," 
said  Lucian,  who  liked  to  show  that  he  was  not  defi- 
cient insensibility.  "One  can  picture  the  innocent 
faith  of  the  poor  woman  in  her  boy's  future,  and  so 
forth." 

"  Inscriptions  in  books  are  like  inscriptions  on  tomb- 
stones," said  Alice,  disparagingly.  "  They  don't  mean 
much." 

"lam  glad  that  these  men  have  no  further  excuse 
for  gioing  to  "Wiltstoken.     It  was  certainly  most  unfor- 

245 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

tunate  that  Lydia  should  have  made  the  acquaintance 
of  one  of  them." 

"So  you  have  said  at  least  fifty  times,"  replied 
Alice,  deliberately.  "  I  believe  you  are  jealous  of  that 
poor  boxer." 

Lucian  became  quite  red.  Alice  trembled  at  her 
own  audacity,  but  kept  a  bold  front. 

"  Beally — it's  too  absurd,"  he  said,  betraying  his 
confusion  by  assuming  a  carelessness  quite  foreign  to 
his  normal  manner.  "  In  what  way  could  I  possibly 
be  jealous,  MissGoff?" 

"  That  is  best  known  to  yourself." 

Lucian  now  saw  plainly  that  there  was  a  change  in 
Alice,  and  that  he  had  lost  ground  with  her.  The 
smarting  of  his  wounded  vanity  suddenly  obliterated 
his  impression  that  she  was,  in  the  main,  a  well-con- 
ducted and  meritorious  young  woman.  But  in  its 
place  came  another  impression  that  she  was  a  spoiled 
beauty.  And,  as  he  was  by  no  means  fondest  of  the 
women  whose  behavior  accorded  best  with  his  notions 
of  propriety,  he  found,  without  at  once  acknowledging 
to  himself,  that  the  change  was  not  in  all  respects  a 
change  for  the  worse.  Nevertheless,  he  could  not  for- 
give her  last  remark,  though  he  took  care  not  to  let 
her  see  how  it  stung  him. 

"I  am  afraid  I  should  cut  a  poor  figure  in  an  en- 
counter with  my  rival,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"Call  him  out  and  shoot  him,"  said  Alice,  viva- 
ciously. "  Very  likely  he  does  not  know  how  to  use  a 
pistol." 

He  smiled  again  j  but  had  Alice  known  how  seriously 
246 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

he  entertained  her  suggestion  for  some  moments  before 
dismissing  it  as  impracticable,  she  would  not  have 
offered  it.  Putting  a .  bullet  into  Cashel  struck  him 
rather  as  a  luxury  which  he  could  not  afford  than  as  a 
crime.  Meanwhile,  Alice,  being  now  quite  satisfied 
that  this  Mr.  Webber,  on  whom  she  had  wasted  so 
much  undeserved  awe,  might  be  treated  as  inconsider- 
ately as  she  used  to  treat  her  beaux  at  Wiltstoken, 
proceeded  to  amuse  herself  by  torturing  him  a  little. 

"  It  is  odd,"  she  said,  reflectively,  "  that  a  common 
man  like  that  should  be  able  to  make  himself  so  very 
attractive  to  Lydia.  It  was  not  because  he  was  such 
a  fine  man;  for  she  does  not  care  in  the  least  about 
that.  I  don't  think  she  would  give  a  second  look  at 
the  handsomest  man  in  London,  she  is  so  purely  intel- 
lectual. And  yet  she  used  to  delight  in  talking  to 
him." 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  mistake.  Lydia  has  a  certain  man- 
ner which  leads  people  to  believe  that  she  is  deeply 
interested  in  the  person  she  happens  to  be  speaking  to; 
but  it  is  only  manner — it  means  nothing." 

"  I  know  that  manner  of  hers  perfectly  well.  But 
this  was  something  quite  different." 

Lucian  shook  his  head  reproachfully.  "  I  cannot 
jest  on  so  serious  a  matter,"  he  said,  resolving  to  make 
an  attempt  to  re-establish  his  dignity  with  Alice.  "  I 
think,  Miss  Groff,  that  you  perhaps  hardly  know  how 
absurd  your  supposition  is.  There  are  not  many  men 
of  distinction  in  Europe  with  whom  my  cousiu  is  not 
personally  acquainted.  A  very  young  girl,  who  had 
seen  little  of  the  world,  might  possibly  be  deceived  by 

24? 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  exterior  of  such  a  man  as  Byron.  A  woman  ac- 
customed to  associate  with  writers,  thinkers,  artists, 
statesmen,  and  diplomatists  could  make  no  such  mis- 
take. No  doubt  the  man's  vulgarity  and  uncouth 
address  amused  her  for  a  moment;  but — " 

"  But  why  did  she  ask  him  to  come  to  her  Friday 
afternoons?" 

"A  mere  civility  which  she  extended  to  him  be- 
cause he  assisted  her  in  some  difficulty  she  got  into  in 
the  streets.'' 

"  She  might  as  well  have  asked  a  policeman  to  come 
to  see  her.     I  don't  believe  that  was  it." 

Lucian  at  that  moment  hated  Alice.  "I  am  sorry 
you  think  such  a  thing  possible,"  he  said.  "Shall 
we  resume  our  waltz  ?  " 

Alice  was  not  yet  able  to  bear  an  implication  that 
she  did  not  understand  society  sufficiently  to  appreciate 
the  distance  between  Lydia  and  Cashel. 

"Of  course  I  know  it  is  impossible,"  she  said,  in 
her  old  manner.     "  I  did  not  mean  it." 

Lucian  found  some  difficulty  in  gathering  from  this 
what  she  did  mean ;  and  they  presently  took  refuge  in 
waltzing.  Subsequently,  Alice,  fearing  that  her  new 
lights  had  led  her  too  far,  drew  back  a  little;  led  the 
conversation  to  political  matters,  and  expressed  her 
amazement  at  the  extent  and  variety  of  the  work  he 
performed  in  Downing  Street.  He  accepted  her  com- 
pliments with  perfect  seriousness;  and  she  felt  satis- 
fied that  she  had,  on  the  whole,  raised  herself  in  his 
esteem  by  her  proceedings  during  the  evening.  But 
she  was  mistaken.     She  knew  nothing  of  politics  or 

248 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

official  work,  and  lie  knew  the  worthlessness  of  her 
pretended  admiration  of  his  share  in  them,  although 
he  felt  that  it  was  right  that  she  should  revere  his 
powers  from  the  depths  of  her  ignorance.  What 
stuck  like  a  burr  in  his  mind  was  that  she  thought 
him  small  enough  to  be  jealous  of  the  poor  boxer,  and 
found  his  dancing  awkward. 

After  that  dance  Alice  thought  much  about  Lucian, 
and  also  about  the  way  in  which  society  regulated 
marriages.  Before  Miss  Carew  sent  for  her  she  had 
often  sighed  because  all  the  nice  men  she  knew  of 
moved  in  circles  into  which  an  obscure  governess 
had  no  chance  of  admission.  She  had  received  wel- 
come attentions  from  them  occasionally  at  subscrip- 
tion balls;  but  for  sustained  intimacy  and  proposals  of 
marriage  she  had  been  dependent  on  the  native  youth 
of  Wiltstoken,  whom  she  looked  upon  as  louts  or  prigs, 
and  among  whom  Wallace  Parker  had  shone  pre-emi- 
nent as  a  university  man,  scholar,  and  gentleman. 
And  now  that  she  was  a  privileged  beauty  in  society 
which  would  hardly  tolerate  Wallace  Parker,  she  found 
that  the  nice  men  were  younger  sons,  poor  and  extrava- 
gant, far  superior  to  Lucian  Webber  as  partners  for 
a  waltz,  but  not  to  be  thought  of  as  partners  in  domes- 
tic economy.  Alice  had  experienced  the  troubles  of 
poverty,  and  had  never  met  with  excellence  in  men 
except  in  poems,  which  she  had  long  ago  been  taught 
to  separate  from  the  possibilities  of  actual  life.  She 
had,  therefore,  no  conception  of  any  degree  of  merit 
in  a  husband  being  sufficient  to  compensate  for  slender 
means  of  subsistence.      She  was  not   base-minded; 

249 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

nothing  could  have  induced  her  to  marry  a  man,  how- 
ever rich,  whom  she  thought  wicked.  She  wanted 
money;  but  she  wanted  more  than  money;  and  here 
it  was  that  she  found  supply  failing  to  answer  the 
demand.  For  not  only  were  all  the  handsome,  gallant, 
well-bred  men  getting  deeply  into  debt  by  living  beyond 
smaller  incomes  than  that  with  which  Wallace  Parker 
had  tempted  her,  but  many  of  those  who  had  inherited 
both  riches  and  rank  were  as  inferior  to  him,  both  in 
appearance  and  address,  as  they  were  in  scholarship. 
No  man,  possessing  both  wealth  and  amiability,  had  yet 
shown  the  least  disposition  to  fall  in  love  with  her. 

One  bright  forenoon  in  July,  Alice,  attended  by  a 
groom,  went  to  the  park  on  horseback.  The  Row 
looked  its  best.  The  freshness  of  morning  was  upon 
horses  and  riders  ;  there  were  not  yet  any  jaded 
people  lolling  supine  in  carriages,  nor  discontented 
spectators  sitting  in  chairs  to  envy  them.  Alice,  who 
was  a  better  horsewoman  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  the  little  practice  she  had  had,  appeared 
to  advantage  in  the  saddle.  She  had  just  indulged 
in  a  brisk  canter  from  the  Corner  to  the  Serpentine, 
when  she  saw  a  large  white  horse  approaching  with 
Wallace  Parker  on  its  back. 

"Ah  ! "  he  exclaimed,  expertly  wheeling  his  steed 
and  taking  off  his  hat  at  the  same  time  with  an  inten- 
tional display  of  gallantry  and  horsemanship.  "  How 
are  you,  Alice?" 

"Goodness  !  "  cried  Alice,  forgetting  her  manners 
in  her  astonishment.  "  What  brings  you  here;  and 
where  on  earth  did  you  get  that  horse  ?  " 

250 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  presume,  Alice,"  said  Parker,  satisfied  with 
the  impression  he  had  made,  "that  I  am  here  for 
much  the  same  reason  as  you  are — to  enjoy  the  morn- 
ing in  proper  style.  As  for  Eozinante,  I  borrowed 
him.  Is  that  chestnut  yours  ?  Excuse  the  rudeness 
of  the  question." 

"No,"  said  Alice,  coloring  a  little.  "This  seems 
such  an  unlikely  place  to  meet  you." 

"  Oh,  no.  I  always  take  a  turn  in  the  season. 
But  certainly  it  would  have  been  a  very  unlikely 
place  for  us  to  meet  a  year  ago." 

So  far,  Alice  felt,  she  was  getting  the  worst  of  the 
conversation.     She  changed  the  subject.     "  Have  you 
been  to  Wiltstoken  since  I  last  saw  you  ?  " 
"  Yes.     I  go  there  once  every  week  at  least." 
"  Every  week  !     Janet  never  told  me." 
Parker  implied  by  a  cunning  air  that  he  thought 
he  knew  the  reason  of  that;    but  he  said  nothing. 
Alice,  piqued,  would  not  condescend  to  make  inquiries. 
So  he  said,  presently, 

"  How  is  Miss  Thingumbob  ?  " 
"  I  do  not  know  any  one  of  that  name." 
"  Yon  know  very  well  whom  I  mean.     Your  aristo- 
cratic patron,  Miss  Carew." 

Alice  flushed.  "You  are  very  impertinent,  "Wal- 
lace," she  said,  grasping  her  riding-whip.  "How 
dare  you  call  Miss  Carew  my  patron  ?  " 

Wallace  suddenly  became  solemn.  "  I  did  not  know 
that  you  objected  to  be  reminded  of  all  you  owe  her," 
he  said.  "  Janet  never  speaks  ungratefully  of  her, 
though  she  has  done  nothing  for  Janet." 

251 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"I  have  not  spoken  ungratefully,"  protested  Alice, 
almost  in  tears.  "  I  feel  sure  that  you  are  never  tirecS 
of  speaking  ill  of  me  to  them  at  home." 

"  That  shows  how  little  you  understand  my  real 
character.     I   always  make  excuses  for  you." 

"Excuses  for  what?  What  have  I  done?  What 
do  you  mean?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  anything,  if  you  don't.  I 
thought  from  your  beginning  to  defend  yourself  that 
you  felt  yourself  to  be  in  the  wrong." 

"I  did  not  defend  myself;  and  I  won't  have  you 
say  so,  Wallace." 

"Always  your  obedient,  humble  servant,"  he  re* 
plied,  with  complacent  irony. 

She  pretended  not  to  hear  him,  and  whipped  up 
her  horse  to  a  smart  trot.  The  white  steed  being  no 
trotter,  Parker  followed  at  a  lumbering  canter.  Alice, 
possessed  by  a  shamefaced  fear  that  he  was  making 
her  ridiculous,  soon  checked  her  speed;  and  the  white 
horse  subsided  to  a  walk,  marking  its  paces  by  delib- 
erate bobs  of  its  unfashionably  long  mane  and  tail. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  said  Parker  at  last. 

Alice  did  not  deign  to  reply. 

"I  think  it  better  to  let  you  know  at  once,"  he 
continued.     "  The  fact  is,  I  intend  to  marry  Janet." 

"Janet  won't,"  said  Alice,  promptly,  retorting 
first,  and  then  reflecting  on  the  intelligence,  which 
surprised  her  more  than  it  pleased  her. 

Parker  smiled  conceitedly,  and  said,  "  I  don't  think 
she  will  raise  any  difficulty  if  you  give  her  to  under- 
stand that  it  is  all  over  between  ws." 

252 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"That  what  is  all  over?" 

"  Well,  if  you  prefer  it,  that  there  never  has  been 
anything  between  us.  Janet  believes  that  we  were 
engaged.  So  did  a  good  many  other  people  until  you 
went  into  high  life." 

"  I  cannot  help  what  people  thought." 

"  And  they  all  know  that  I,  at  least,  was  ready  to 
perform  my  part  of  the  engagement  honorably." 

"  "Wallace,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone; 
"I  think  we  had  better  separate.  It  is  not  right  for 
me  to  be  riding  about  the  park  with  you  when  I  have 
nobody  belonging  to  me  here  except  a  man-servant." 

"Just  as  you  please,"  he  said,  coolly,  halting. 
"May  I  assure  Janet  that  you  wish  her  to  marry 
me?" 

"  Most  certainly  not.  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to 
marry  you,  much  less  my  own  sister.  I  am  far  infe- 
rior to  Janet;  and  she  deserves  a  much  better  husband 
than  I  do." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  though  I  don't  quite  see 
what  that  has  to  do  with  it.  As  far  as  I  understand 
you,  you  will  neither  marry  me  yourself — mind,  I  am 
quite  willing  to  fulfil  my  engagement  still — nor  let 
any  one  else  have  me.     Is  that  so  ?  " 

"You  may  tell  Janet,"  said  Alice,  vigorously,  her 
face  glowing,  "that  if  we — you  and  I — were  con- 
demned to  live  forever  on  a  desert  isl —  No;  I  will 
write  to  her.  That  will  be  the  best  way.  Good- 
morning." 

Parker,  hitherto  imperturbable,  now  showed  signs 
of  alarm.     "I  beg,  Alice,"  he  said,  "that  you  will 

253 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

say  nothing  unfair  to  her  of  me.  You  cannot  with 
truth  say  anything  bad  of  me." 

"  Do  you  really  care  for  Janet?  "  said  Alice,  waver- 
ing. 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied,  indignantly.  u  Janet  is  a 
very  superior  girl." 

"I  have  always  said  so,"  said  Alice,  rather  angry 
because  some  one  else  had  forestalled  her  with  the 
meritorious  admission.  "I  will  tell  her  the  simple 
truth — that  there  has  never  been  anything  between  us 
except  what  is  between  all  cousins;  and  that  there 
never  could  have  been  anything  more  on  my  part.  I 
must  go  now.  I  don't  know  what  that  man  must 
think  of  me  already." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  lower  you  in  his  esteem,"  said 
Parker,  maliciously.  "  Good-bye,  Alice."  Uttering 
the  last  words  in  a  careless  tone,  he  again  pulled  up 
the  white  horse's  head,  raised  his  hat,  and  sped  away. 
It  was  not  true  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  riding  in 
the  park  every  season.  He  had  learned  from  Janet 
that  Alice  was  accustomed  to  ride  there  in  the  fore- 
noon; and  he  had  hired  the  white  horse  in  order  to 
meet  her  on  equal  terms,  feeling  that  a  gentleman  on 
horseback  in  the  road  by  the  Serpentine  could  be  at 
no  social  disadvantage  with  any  lady,  however  exalted 
her  associates. 

As  for  Alice,  she  went  home  with  his  reminder  that 
Miss  Carew  was  her  patron  rankling  in  her.  The 
necessity  for  securing  an  independent  position  seemed 
to  press  imminently  upon  her.  And  as  the  sole  way 
of  achieving  this  was  by  marriage,  she  felt  for  the  time 

254 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

willing  to  marry  any  man,  without  regard  to  his  per% 
son,  age,  or  disposition,  if  only  he  could  give  her  a 
place  equal  to  that  of  Miss  Carew  in  the  world,  of 
which  she  had  lately  acquired  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms. 


235 


CHAPTEK  XII 

When  the  autumn  set  in,  Alice  was  in  Scotland 
learning  to  shoot;  and  Lydia  was  at  Wiltstoken,  pre- 
paring her  father's  letters  and  memoirs  for  publica- 
tion. She  did  not  write  at  the  castle,  all  the  rooms  in 
which  were  either  domed,  vaulted,  gilded,  galleried, 
three-sided,  six-sided,  anything  except  four-sided,  or 
in  some  way  suggestive  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights'  En- 
tertainments," and  out  of  keeping  with  the  associa- 
tions of  her  father's  life.  In  her  search  for  a  congru- 
ous room  to  work  in,  the  idea  of  causing  a  pavilion  to 
be  erected  in  the  elm  vista  occurred  to  her.  Bat  she 
had  no  mind  to  be  disturbed  just  then  by  the  presence 
of  a  troop  of  stone-masons,  slaters,  and  carpenters, 
nor  any  time  to  lose  in  waiting  for  the  end  of  their 
operations.  So  she  had  the  Warren  Lodge  cleansed 
and  lime  washed,  and  the  kitchen  transformed  into  a 
comfortable  library,  where,  as  she  sat  facing  the  door 
at  her  writing-table,  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  she 
could  see  the  elm  vista  through  one  window  and 
through  another  a  tract  of  wood  and  meadow  land 
intersected  by  the  high-road  and  by  a  canal,  beyond 
which  the  prospect  ended  in  a  distant  green  slope  used 
as  a  sheep  run.  The  other  apartments  were  used  by  a 
couple  of  maid-servants,  who  kept  the  place  well  swept 
and  dusted,  prepared  Miss  Carew's  lunch,  answered 

256 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

her  bell,  and  went  on  her  errands  to  the  castle ;  and, 
failing  any  of  these  employments,  sat  outside  in  the 
sun,  reading  novels.  When  Lydia  had  worked  in  this 
retreat  daily  for  two  months  her  mind  became  so  full 
of  the  old  life  with  her  father  that  the  interruptions 
of  the  servants  often  recalled  her  to  the  present  with 
a  shock.  On  the  twelfth  of  August  she  was  bewil- 
dered for  a  moment  when  Phoebe,  one  of  the  maids, 
entered  and  said, 

"  If  you  please,  miss,  Bashville  is  wishful  to  know 
can  he  speak  to  you  a  moment  ?  " 

.Permission  being  given,  Bashville  entered.  Since 
his  wrestle  with  Cashel  he  had  never  quite  recovered 
his  former  imperturbability.  His  manner  and  speech 
were  as  smooth  and  respectful  as  before,  but  his  coun- 
tenance was  no  longer  steadfast;  he  was  on  bad  terms 
with  the  butler  because  he  had  been  reproved  by  him 
for  blushing.  On  this  occasion  he  came  to  beg  leave 
to  absent  himself  during  the  afternoon.  He  seldom 
asked  favors  of  this  kind,  and  was  of  course  never 
refused. 

"  The  road  is  quite  thronged  to-day,"  she  observed, 
as  he  thanked  her.     "  Do  you  know  why  ?  " 

"No,  madam,"  said  Bashville,  and  blushed. 

"People  begin  to  shoot  on  the  twelfth,"  she  said; 
"but  I  suppose  it  cannot  have  anything  to  do  with 
that.  Is  there  a  race,  or  a  fair,  or  any  such  thing  in 
the  neighborhood?  " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,  madam." 

Lydia  dipped  her  pen  in  the  ink  and  thought  no 
more  of  the  subject.  Bashville  returned  to  the  castle, 
17  257 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

attired  himself  like  a  country  gentleman  of  sporting 
tastes,  and  went  out  to  enjoy  his  holiday. 

The  forenoon  passed  away  peacefully.  There  was 
no  sound  in  the  Warren  Lodge  except  the  scratching 
of  Lydia's  pen,  the  ticking  of  her  favorite  skeleton 
clock,  an  occasional  clatter  of  crockery  from  the 
kitchen,  and  the  voices  of  the  birds  and  maids  without. 
The  hour  for  lunch  approached,  and  Lydia  became 
a  little  restless.  She  interrupted  her  work  to  look  at 
the  clock,  and  brushed  a  speck  of  dust  from  its  dial 
with  the  feather  of  her  quill.  Then  she  looked  ab- 
sently through  the  window  along  the  elm  vista,  where 
she  had  once  seen,  as  she  had  thought,  a  sylvan  god. 
This  time  she  saw  a  less  romantic  object — a  policeman. 
She  looked  again,  incredulously;  there  he  was  still,  a 
black-bearded,  helmeted  man,  making  a  dark  blot  in 
the  green  perspective,  and  surveying  the  landscape 
cautiously.  Lydia  rang  the  bell,  and  bade  Phoebe  ask 
the  man  what  he  wanted. 

The  girl  soon  returned  out  of  breath,  with  the  news 
that  there  were  a  dozen  more  constables  hiding  in  the 
road,  and  that  the  one  she  had  spoken  to  had  given 
no  account  of  himself,  but  had  asked  her  how  many 
gates  there  were  to  the  park;  whether  they  were  always 
locked,  and  whether  she  had  seen  many  people  about. 
She  felt  sure  that  a  murder  had  been  committed  some- 
where. Lydia  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  ordered 
luncheon,  during  which  Phoebe  gazed  eagerly  through 
the  window,  and  left  her  mistress  to  wait  on  herself. 

"Phoebe,"  said  Lydia,  when  the  dishes  were  re- 
moved; "  you  may  go  to  the  gate  lodge,  and  ask  them 

258 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

there  what  the  policemen  want.  But  do  not  go  any- 
farther.  Stay.  Has  Ellen  gone  to  the  castle  with  the 
things?" 

Phoebe  reluctantly  admitted  that  Ellen  had. 

"Well,  you  need  not  wait  for  her  to  return;  but 
come  back  as  quickly  as  you  can,  in  case  I  should 
want  anybody." 

"Directly,  miss,"  said  Phoebe,  vanishing. 

Lydia,  left  alone,  resumed  her  work  leisurely,  occa- 
sionally pausing  to  gaze  at  the  distant  woodland,  and 
note  with  transient  curiosity  a  flock  of  sheep  on  the 
slope,  or  a  flight  of  birds  above  the  tree-tops.  Some- 
thing more  startling  occurred  presently.  A  man,  ap- 
parently half-naked,  and  carrying  a  black  object  under 
his  arm,  darted  through  a  remote  glade  with  the 
swiftness  of  a  stag,  and  disappeared.  Lydia  concluded 
that  he  had  been  disturbed  while  bathing  in  the  canal, 
and  had  taken  flight  with  his  wardrobe  under  his 
arm.  She  laughed  at  the  idea,  turned  to  her  manu- 
script again,  and  wrote  on.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
rustle  and  a  swift  footstep  without.  Then  the  latch 
was  violently  jerked  up,  and  Cashel  Byron  rushed  in 
as  far  as  the  threshold,  where  he  stood,  stupefied  at 
the  presence  of  Lydia,  and  the  change  in  the  appear- 
ance of  the  room. 

He  was  himself  remarkably  changed.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  pea-jacket,  which  evidently  did  not 
belong  to  him,  for  it  hardly  reached  his  middle,  and 
the  sleeves  were  so  short  that  his  forearms  were  half 
bare,  showing  that  he  wore  nothing  beneath  this  bor- 
rowed garment.  Below  it  he  had  on  white  knee- 
259 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

breeches,  with  green  stains  of  bruised  grass  on  them. 
The  breeches  were  made  with  a  broad  flap  in  front, 
under  which,  and  passing  round  his  waist,  was  a  scarf 
of  crimson  silk.  From  his  knees  to  his  socks,  the 
edges  of  which  had  fallen  over  his  laced  boots,  his  legs 
were  visible,  naked,  and  muscular.  On  his  face  was 
a  mask  of  sweat,  dust,  and  blood,  partly  rubbed  away 
in  places  by  a  sponge,  the  borders  of  its  passage  marked 
by  black  streaks.  Underneath  his  left  eye  was  a 
mound  of  bluish  flesh  nearly  as  large  as  a  walnut. 
The  jaw  below  it,  and  the  opposite  cheek,  were  severely 
bruised,  and  his  lip  was  cut  through  at  one  corner. 
He  had  no  hat;  his  close-cropped  hair  was  disordered, 
and  his  ears  were  as  though  they  had  been  rubbed  with 
coarse  sand-paper. 

Lydia  looked  at  him  for  some  seconds,  and  he  at 
her,  speechless.  Then  she  tried  to  speak,  failed,  and 
sunk  into  her  chair. 

"  I  didn't  know  there  was  any  one  here,"  he  said, 
in  a  hoarse,  panting  whisper.  "  The  police  are  after 
me.  I  have  fought  for  an  hour,  and  run  over  a  mile, 
and  I'm  dead  beat — I  can  go  no  farther.  Let  me  hide 
in  the  back  room,  and  tell  them  you  haven't  seen  any 
one,  will  you  ?  " 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  "  she  said,  conquering  her 
weakness  with  an  effort,  and  standing  up. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied,  groaning  occasionally  as  he 
recovered  breath.     "Business,  that's  all." 

"  Why  are  the  police  pursuing  you  ?  Why  are  you  in 
such  a  dreadful  condition  ?  " 

Cashel  seemed  alarmed  at  this.  There  was  a  mirror 
260 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

in  the  lid  of  a  paper-case  on  the  table.  He  took  it 
up  and  looked  at  himself  anxiously,  but  was  at  once 
relieved  by  what  he  saw.  "I'm  all  right,"  he  said. 
"I'm  not  marked.  That  mouse " — he  pointed  gayly 
to  the  lump  under  his  eye — "  will  run  away  to-mor- 
row. I  am  pretty  tidy,  considering.  But  it's  bellows 
to  mend  with  me  at  present.  Whoosh  !  My  heart  is 
as  big  as  a  bullock's  after  that  run." 

"You  ask  me  to  shelter  you,"  said  Lydia,  sternly. 
"What  have  you  done?  Have  you  committed  mur- 
der?" 

"No  !  "  exclaimed  Cashel,  trying  to  open  his  eyes 
widely  in  his  astonishment,  but  only  succeeding  with 
one,  as  the  other  was  gradually  closing.  "  I  tell  you  I 
have  been  fighting;  and  it's  illegal.  You  don't  want  to 
see  me  in  prison,  do  you  ?  Confound  him,"  he  added, 
reverting  to  her  question  with  sudden  wrath;  "a 
steam-hammer  wouldn't  kill  him.  You  might  as  well 
hit  a  sack  of  nails.  And  all  my  money,  my  time,  my 
training,  and  my  day's  trouble  gone  for  nothing  !  It's 
enough  to  make  a  man  cry." 

"Go,"  said  Lydia,  with  uncontrollable  disgust. 
"And  do  not  let  me  see  which  way  you  go.  How 
dare  you  come  to  me  ?  " 

The  sponge-marks  on  Cashel 's  face  grew  whiter, 
and  he  began  to  pant  heavily  again.  "Very  well," 
he  said.  "  I'll  go.  There  isn't  a  boy  in  your  stables 
that  would  give  me  up  like  that." 

As  he  spoke,  he  opened  the  door;  but  he  invol- 
untarily shut  it  again  immediately.  Lydia  looked 
through  the  window,  and  saw  a  crowd  of  men,  police 

261 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

and  others,  hurrying  along  the  elm  vista.  Cashel  cast 
a  glance  round,  half  piteous,  half  desperate,  like  a 
hunted  animal.  Lydia  could  not  resist  it.  "  Quick  !  " 
she  cried,  opening  one  of  the  inner  doors.  "  Go  in 
there,  and  keep  quiet — if  you  can."  And,  as  he  sulk- 
ily hesitated  a  moment,  she  stamped  vehemently.  He 
slunk  in  submissively.  She  shut  the  door  and  resumed 
her  place  at  the  writing-table,  her  heart  beating  with 
a  kind  of  excitement  she  had  not  felt  since,  in  her  early 
childhood,  she  had  kept  guilty  secrets  from  her  nurse. 

There  was  a  tramping  without,  and  a  sound  of 
voices.     Then  two  peremptory  raps  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Lydia,  more  composedly  than  she 
was  aware  of.  The  permission  was  not  waited  for. 
Before  she  ceased  speaking  a  policeman  opened  the 
door  and  looked  quickly  round  the  room.  He  seemed 
rather  taken  aback  by  what  he  saw,  and  finally  touched 
his  helmet  to  signify  respect  for  Lydia.  He  was  about 
to  speak,  when  Phoebe,  flushed  with  running,  pushed 
past  him,  put  her  hand  on  the  door,  and  pertly  asked 
what  he  wanted. 

"  Come  away  from  the  door,  Phoebe,"  said  Lydia. 
"  Wait  here  with  me  until  I  give  you  leave  to  go,"  she 
added,  as  the  girl  moved  towards  the  inner  door. 
"Now,"  she  said,  turning  courteously  to  the  police- 
man, "  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"I  ask  your  pardon,  mum,"  said  the  constable, 
agreeably.  "Did  you  happen  to  see  any  one  pass 
hereabouts  lately  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  a  man  only  partly  dressed,  and  car- 
rying a  black  coat?  "  said  Lydia. 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"That's  him,  miss/'  said  the  policeman,  greatly 
interested.     "  Which  way  did  he  go  ?  " 

"I  will  show  you  where  I  saw  him,"  said  Lydia, 
quietly  rising  and  going  with  the  man  to  the  door, 
outside  which  she  found  a  crowd  of  rustics,  and  five 
policemen,  having  in  custody  two  men,  one  of  whom 
was  Mellish  (without  a  coat),  and  the  other  a  hook- 
nosed man,  whose  like  Lydia  had  seen  often  on  race- 
courses. She  pointed  out  the  glade  across  which  she 
had  seen  Cashel  run,  and  felt  as  if  the  guilt  of  the 
deception  she  was  practising  was  wrenching  some  fibre 
in  her  heart  from  its  natural  order.  But  she  spoke 
with  apparent  self-possession,  and  no  shade  of  suspi- 
cion fell  on  the  minds  of  the  police. 

Several  peasants  now  came  forward,  each  professing 
to  know  exactly  whither  Cashel  had  been  making 
when  he  crossed  the  glade.  While  they  were  disput- 
ing, many  persons  resembling  the  hook-nosed  captive 
in  general  appearance  sneaked  into  the  crowd  and  re- 
garded the  police  with  furtive  hostility.  Soon  after, 
a  second  detachment  of  police  came  up,  with  another 
prisoner  and  another  crowd,  among  whom  was  Bash- 
ville. 

"  Better  go  in,  mum,"  said  the  policeman  who  had 
spoken  to  Lydia  first.  "We  must  keep  together, 
being  so  few,  and  he  ain't  fit  for  you  to  look  at." 

But  Lydia  had  looked  already,  and  had  guessed  that 
the  last  prisoner  was  Paradise,  although  his  counte- 
nance was  damaged  beyond  recognition.  His  costume 
was  like  that  of  Cashel,  except  that  he  was  girt  with 
a  blue  handkerchief  with  white  spots,  and  his  shoul- 

263 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ders  were  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  through  one  of  the 
folds  of  which  his  naked  ribs  could  be  seen,  tinged 
with  every  hue  that  a  bad  bruise  can  assume.  A 
shocking  spectacle  appeared  where  his  face  had  for- 
merly been.  A  crease  and  a  hole  in  the  midst  of  a  clus- 
ter of  lumps  of  raw  flesh  indicated  the  presence  of  an 
eye  and  a  mouth;  the  rest  of  his  features  were  indis- 
cernible. He  could  still  see  a  little,  for  he  moved  his 
puffed  and  lacerated  hand  to  arrange  his  blanket,  and 
demanded  hoarsely,  and  with  greatly  impeded  articu- 
lation, whether  the  lady  would  stand  a  dram  to  a  poor 
fighting  man  wot  had  done  his  best  for  his  backers. 
On  this  some  one  produced  a  flask,  and  Mellish  volun- 
teered, provided  he  were  released  for  a  moment,  to  get 
the  contents  down  Paradise's  throat.  As  soon  as  the 
brandy  had  passed  his  swollen  lips  he  made  a  few  pre- 
liminary sounds,  and  then  shouted, 

"  He  sent  for  the  coppers  because  he  couldn't  stand 
another  round.     I  am  ready  to  go  on." 

The  policemen  bade  him  hold  his  tongue,  closed 
round  him,  and  hid  him  from  Lydia,  who,  without 
showing  the  mingled  pity  and  loathing  with  which 
his  condition  inspired  her,  told  them  to  bring  him  to 
the  castle,  and  have  him  attended  to  there.  She  added 
that  the  whole  party  could  obtain  refreshment  at  the 
same  time.  The  sergeant,  who  was  very  tired  and 
thirsty,  wavered  in  his  resolution  to  continue  the  pur- 
suit.    Lydia,  as  usual,  treated  the  matter  as  settled. 

"  Bashville,"  she  said,  "will  you  please  show  them 
the  way,  and  see  that  they  are  satisfied." 

"  Some  thief  has  stole  my  coat,"  said  Mellish,  su]- 
264 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

lenly,  to  Basliville.  "  If  you'll  lend  me  one,  governor, 
and  these  blessed  policemen  will  be  so  kind  as  not  to 
tear  it  off  my  back,  I'll  send  it  down  to  you  in  a  day 
or  two.  I'm  a  respectable  man,  and  have  been  her 
ladyship's  tenant  here." 

"  Your  pal  wants  it  worse  than  you,"  said  the  ser- 
geant. ci  If  there  was  an  old  coachman's  cape  or  any- 
thing to  put  over  him,  I  would  see  it  returned  safe.  I 
don't  want  to  bring  him  round  the  country  in  a 
blanket,  like  a  wild  Injin." 

"  I  have  a  cloak  inside,"  said  Bashville.  "  I'll  get 
it  for  you."  And  before  Lydia  could  devise  a  pretext 
for  stopping  him,  he  went  out,  and  she  heard  him  re- 
entering the  lodge  by  the  back  door.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  a  silence  fell  on  the  crowd,  as  if  her  deceit  were 
already  discovered.  Then  Mellish,  who  had  been 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  protest  against  the  last 
remark  of  the  policeman,  said,  angrily, 

"  Who  are  you  calling  my  pal  ?  I  hope  I  may  be 
struck  dead  for  a  liar  if  ever  I  set  my  eyes  on  him  in 
my  life  before." 

Lydia  looked  at  him  as  a  martyr  might  look  at  a 
wretch  to  whom  she  was  to  be  chained.  He  was  doing 
as  she  had  done — lying.  Then  Bashville,  having 
passed  through  the  other  rooms,  came  into  the  library 
by  the  inner  door,  with  an  old  livery  cloak  on  his 
arm. 

"Put  that  on  him,"  he  said;  "and  come  along  to 
the  castle  with  me.  You  can  see  the  roads  for  five 
miles  round  from  the  south  tower,  and  recognize 
every  man  on  them,  through  the  big  telescope.     By 

265 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

your  leave,  madam,  I  think  Phoebe  had  better  come 
with  us  to  help." 

"Certainly,"  said  Lydia,  looking  steadfastly  at 
him. 

"I'll  get  clothes  at  the  castle  for  the  man  that 
wants  them,"  he  added,  trying  to  return  her  gaze, 
bu t  failing  with  a  blush.    ' '  Now  boys.      Come  along. ' ' 

"  I  thank  your  ladyship,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  We 
have  had  a  hard  morning  of  it,  and  we  can  do  no  more 
at  present  than  drink  your  health."  He  touched  his 
helmet  again,  and  Lydia  bowed  to  him.  "  Keep  close 
together,  men,"  he  shouted,  as  the  crowd  moved  off 
with  Bashville. 

"Ah,"  sneered  Mellish,  "keep  close  together  like 
the  geese  do.  Things  has  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when 
an  Englishman  is  run  in  for  stopping  when  he  sees  a 
crowd." 

"All  right,"  said  the  sergeant.  "I  have  got  that 
bundle  of  colored  handkerchiefs  you  were  selling;  and 
I'll  find  the  other  man  before  you're  a  day  older.  It's 
a  pity,  seeing  how  you've  behaved  so  well  and  haven't 
resisted  us,  that  you  won't  drop  a  hint  of  where  those 
ropes  and  stakes  are  hid.  I  might  have  a  good  word 
at  the  sessions  for  any  one  who  would  put  me  in  the 
way  of  finding  them." 

"  Eopes  and  stakes!  Fiddlesticks  and  grand- 
mothers !  There  weren't  no  ropes  and  stakes.  It 
was  only  a  turn-up — that  is,  if  there  was  any  fighting 
at  all.  /didn't  see  none;  but  I  s'pose  you  did.  But 
then  you're  clever,  and  I'm  not." 

By  this  time  the  last  straggler  of  the  party  had  dis- 
266 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

appeared  from  Lydia,  who  had  watched  their  retreat 
from  the  door  of  the  Warren  Lodge.  When  she 
turned  to  go  in  she  saw  Cashel  cautiously  entering 
from  the  room  in  which  he  had  lain  concealed.  His 
excitement  had  passed  off;  he  looked  cold  and  anx- 
ious, as  if  a  reaction  were  setting  in. 

"Are  they  all  gone?  "  he  said.  "  That  servant  of 
yours  is  a  good  sort.  He  has  promised  to  bring  me 
some  clothes.  As  for  you,  you're  better  than — 
What's  the  matter  ?    Where  are  you  going  to  ?  " 

Lydia  had  put  on  her  hat,  and  was  swiftly  wrapping 
herself  in  a  shawl.  Wreaths  of  rosy  color  were  chas- 
ing each  other  through  her  cheeks;  and  her  eyes  and 
nostrils,  usually  so  tranquil,  were  dilated. 

"  Won't  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  he  said,  irresolutely. 

"Just  this,"  she  replied,  with  passion.  "Let  me 
never  see  you  again.  The  very  foundations  of  my  life 
are  loosened :  I  have  told  a  lie.  I  have  made  my  ser- 
vant— an  honorable  man — an  accomplice  in  a  lie.  We 
are  worse  than  you ;  for  even  your  wild-beast's  handi- 
work is  a  less  evil  than  the  bringing  of  a  falsehood  into 
the  world.  This  is  what  has  come  to  me  out  of  our 
acquaintance.  I  have  given  you  a  hiding-place.  Keep 
it.     I  will  never  enter  it  again." 

Cashel,  appalled,  shrank  back  with  an  expression 
such  as  a  child  wears  when,  in  trying  to  steal  sweet- 
meats from  a  high  shelf,  it  pulls  the  whole  cupboard 
down  about  its  ears.  He  neither  spoke  nor  stirred  as 
she  left  the  lodge. 

Finding  herself  presently  at  the  castle,  she  went  to 
her  boudoir,  where  she  found  her  maid,  the  French 

267 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

lady,  from  whose  indignant  description  of  the  pro- 
ceedings below  she  gathered  that  the  policemen  were 
being  regaled  with  bread  and  cheese,  and  beer  ;  and 
that  the  attendance  of  a  surgeon  had  been  dispensed, 
with,  Paradise's  wounds  having  been  dressed  skilfully 
by  Mellish.  Lydia  bade  her  send  Bashville  to  the 
Warren  Lodge  to  see  that  there  were  no  strangers 
loitering  about  it,  and  ordered  that  none  of  the  female 
servants  should  return  there  until  he  came  back.  Then 
she  sat  down  and  tried  not  to  think.  But  she  could 
not  help  thinking;  so  she  submitted  and  tried  to  think 
the  late  catastrophe  ont.  An  idea  that  she  had  dis- 
jointed the  whole  framework  of  things  by  creating  a 
false  belief  filled  her  imagination.  The  one  conviction 
that  she  had  brought  out  of  her  reading,  observing, 
reflecting,  and  living  was  that  the  concealment  of  a 
truth,  with  its  resultant  false  beliefs,  must  produce 
mischief,  even  though  the  beginning  of  that  mischief 
might  be  as  inconceivable  as  the  end.  She  made  no 
distinction  between  the  subtlest  philosophical  miscon- 
ception and  the  vulgarest  lie.  The  evil  of  Cashel's 
capture  was  measurable,  the  evil  of  a  lie  beyond  all 
measure.  She  felt  none  the  less  assured,  of  that  evil 
because  she  could  not  foresee  one  bad  consequence 
likely  to  ensue  from  what  she  had  done.  Her  mis- 
givings pressed  heavily  upon  her;  for  her  father,  a 
determined  sceptic,  had  taught  her  his  own  views, 
and  she  was,  therefore,  destitute  of  the  consolations 
which  religion  has  for  the  wrongdoer.  It  was  plainly 
her  duty  to  send  for  the  policeman  and  clear  up  the 
deception  she  had  practised  on  him.     But  this  she 

268 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

could  not  do.  Her  will,  in  spite  of  her  reason,  acted 
in  the  opposite  direction.  And  in  this  paralysis  of 
her  moral  power1  she  saw  the  evil  of  the  lie  beginning. 
She  had  given  it  birth,  and  nature  would  not  permit 
her  to  strangle  the  monster. 

At  last  her  maid  returned  and  informed  her  that  the 
canaille  had  gone  away.  When  she  was  again  alone, 
she  rose  and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro  through  the 
room,  forgetting  the  lapse  of  time  in  the  restless  activ- 
ity of  her  mind,  until  she  was  again  interrupted,  this 
time  by  Bashville. 

"  Well  ?  " 

He  was  daunted  by  her  tone;  for  he  had  never  before 
heard  her  speak  haughtily  to  a  servant.  He  did  not 
understand  that  he  had  changed  subjectively,  and  was 
now  her  accomplice. 

"  He's  given  himself  up." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  said,  with  sudden  dismay. 

"  Byron,  madam.  I  brought  some  clothes  to  the 
lodge  for  him,  but  when  I  got  there  he  was  gone.  I 
went  round  to  the  gates  in  search  of  him,  and  found 
him  in  the  hands  of  the  police.  They  told  me  he'd 
just  given  himself  up.  He  wouldn't  give  any  account 
of  himself;  and  he  looked — well,  sullen  and  beaten 
down  like." 

"  What  will  they  do  with  him  ?  "  she  asked,  turning 
quite  pale. 

"  A  man  got  six  weeks'  hard  labor,  last  month,  for 
the  same  offence.  Most  probably  that's  what  he'll 
get.  And  very  little  for  what's  he's  done,  as  you'd 
say  if  you  saw  him  doing  it,  madam." 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"Then,"  said  Lydia,  sternly,  "it  was  to  see  this" 
— she  shrank  from  naming  it — "this  fight,  that  you 
asked  my  permission  to  go  out !  " 

"Yes,  madam,  it  was,"  said  Bashville,  with  some 
bitterness.  "  I  recognized  Lord  Worthington  and 
plenty  more  noblemen  and  gentlemen  there/' 

Lydia  was  about  to  reply  sharply;  but  she  checked 
herself;  and  her  usual  tranquil  manner  came  back  as 
she  said,  "  That  is  no  reason  why  you  should  have 
been  there." 

Bashville 's  color  began  to  waver,  and  his  voice  to 
need  increased  control.  "  It's  in  human  nature  to  go 
to  such  a  thing  once/'  he  said;  "  but  once  is  enough, 
at  least  for  me.  You'll  excuse  my  mentioning  it, 
madam;  but  what  with  Lord  Worthington  and  the 
rest  of  Byron's  backers  screaming  oaths  and  abuse  at 
the  other  man,  and  the  opposite  party  doing  the  same 
to  Byron — well,  I  may  not  be  a  gentleman;  but  I  hope 
I  can  conduct  myself  like  a  man,  even  when  I'm  losing 
money." 

"  Then  do  not  go  to  such  an  exhibition  again,  Bash- 
ville. I  must  not  dictate  to  you  what  your  amusements 
shall  be;  but  I  do  not  think  you  are  likely  to  benefit 
yourself  by  copying  Lord  Worthington's  tastes." 

"I  copy  no  lord's  tastes,"  said  Bashville,  redden- 
ing. "  You  hid  the  man  that  was  fighting,  Miss 
Carew.  Why  do  you  look  down  on  the  man  that  was 
only  a  bystander?  " 

Lydia's  color  rose,  too.  Her  first  impulse  was  to 
treat  this  outburst  as  rebellion  against  her  authority, 
and  crush  it.     But  her  sense  of  justice  withheld  her. 

270 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Would  you  have  had  me  betray  a  fugitive  who  took 
refuge  in  my  house,  Bashville  ?  You  did  not  betray 
him." 

"No,"  said  Bashville,  his  expression  subdued  to 
one  of  rueful  pride.  "  When  I  am  beaten  by  a  better 
man,  I  have  courage  enough  to  get  out  of  his  way  and 
take  no  mean  advantage  of  him." 

Lydia,  not  understanding,  looked  inquiringly  at 
him.  He  made  a  gesture  as  if  throwing  something 
from  him,  and  continued  recklessly, 

"  But  one  way  I'm  as  good  as  he,  and  better.  A 
footman  is  held  more  respectable  than  a  prize-fighter. 
He's  told  you  that  he's  in  love  with  you;  and  if  it  is 
to  be  my  last  word,  I'll  tell  you  that  the  ribbon  round 
your  neck  is  more  to  me  than  your  whole  body  and 
soul  is  to  him  or  his  like.  When  he  took  an  unfair  ad- 
vantage of  me,  and  pretended  to  be  a  gentleman,  I  told 
Mr.  Lucian  of  him,  and  showed  him  up  for  what  he 
was.  But  when  I  found  him  to-day  hiding  in  the  pan- 
try at  the  Lodge,  I  took  no  advantage  of  him,  though  I 
knew  well  that  if  he'd  been  no  more  to  you  than  any 
other  man  of  his  sort,  you'd  never  have  hid  him.  You 
know  best  why  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  police  after 
your  seeing  his  day's  work.  But  I  will  leave  him  to 
his  luck.  He  is  the  best  man:  let  the  best  man  win. 
I  am  sorry,"  added  Bashville,  recovering  his  ordinary 
suave  manner  with  an  effort,  "to  inconvenience  you 
by  a  short  notice,  but  I  should  take  it  as  a  particular 
favor  if  I  might  go  this  evening." 

"  You  had  better,"  said  Lydia,  rising  quite  calmly, 
and  keeping  resolutely  away  from  her  the  strange  emo- 

271 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

tional  result  of  being  astonished,  outraged,  and  loved 
at  one  unlooked-for  stroke.  "It  is  not  advisable  that 
you  should  stay  after  what  you  have  just — " 

"I  knew  that  when  I  said  it,"  interposed  Bashville 
hastily  and  doggedly. 

"  In  going  away  you  will  be  taking  precisely  the 
course  that  would  be  adopted  by  any  gentleman  who 
had  spoken  to  the  same  effect.  I  am  not  offended  by 
your  declaration:  I  recognize  your  right  to  make  it. 
If  you  need  my  testimony  to  further  your  future  ar- 
rangements, I  shall  be  happy  to  say  that  I  believe  you 
to  be  a  man  of  honor." 

Bashville  bowed,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  very  ner- 
vously, that  he  had  no  intention  of  going  into  service 
again,  but  that  he  should  always  be  proud  of  her  good 
opinion. 

"You  are  fitted  for  better  things,"  she  said.  "If 
you  embark  in  any  enterprise  requiring  larger  means 
than  you  possess,  I  will  be  your  security.  I  thank  you 
for  your  invariable  courtesy  to  me  in  the  discharge  of 
your  duties.     Good-bye." 

She  bowed  to  him  and  left  the  room.  Bashville, 
awestruck,  returned  her  salutation  as  best  he  could, 
and  stood  motionless  after  she  disappeared ;  his  mind 
advancing  on  tiptoe  to  grasp  what  had  just  passed. 
His  chief  sensation  was  one  of  relief.  He  no  longer 
dared  to  fancy  himself  in  love  with  such  a  woman. 
Her  sudden  consideration  for  him  as  a  suitor  over- 
whelmed him  with  a  sense  of  his  unfitness  for  such 
a  part.  He  saw  himself  as  a  very  young,  very  humble, 
and  very  ignorant  man,  whose  head  had  been  turned 

272 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

by  a  pleasant  place  and  a  kind  mistress.    Wakened 
from  his  dream,  he  stole  away  to  pack  his  trunk,  and 
to  consider  how  best  to  account  to  his  fellow-servants 
for  his  departure. 
18 


273 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Lydia  resumed  her  work  next  day  with  shaken 
nerves  and  a  longing  for  society.  Many  enthusiastic 
young  ladies  of  her  acquaintance  would  have  brought 
her  kisses  and  devotion  by  the  next  mail  in  response 
to  a  telegram;  and  many  more  practical  people  would 
have  taken  considerable  pains  to  make  themselves 
agreeable  to  her  for  the  sake  of  spending  the  autumn 
at  Wiltstoken  Castle.  But  she  knew  that  they  would 
only  cause  her  to  regret  her  former  solitude.  She 
shrank  from  the  people  who  attached  themselves  to 
her  strength  and  riches  even  when  they  had  not  calcu- 
lated her  gain,  and  were  conscious  only  of  admiration 
and  gratitude.  Alice,  as  a  companion,  had  proved  a 
failure.  She  was  too  young,  and  too  much  occupied 
with  the  propriety  of  her  own  behavior,  to  be  anything 
more  to  Lydia  than  an  occasional  tax  upon  her  pa- 
tience. Lydia,  to  her  own  surprise,  thought  several 
times  of  Miss  Gisborne,  and  felt  tempted  to  invite  her, 
but  was  restrained  by  mistrust  of  the  impulse  to  com- 
municate with  CashePs  mother,  and  reluctance  to 
trace  it  to  its  source.  Eventually  she  resolved  to  con- 
quer her  loneliness,  and  apply  herself  with  increased 
diligence  to  the  memoir  of  her  father.  To  restore  her 
nerves,  she  walked  for  an  hour  every  day  in  the  neigh- 

274 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

borhood,  and  drove  out  in  a  pony  carriage,  in  the 
evening.  Bashville's  duties  were  now  fulfilled  by  the 
butler  and  Phoebe,  Lydia  being  determined  to  admit 
no  more  young  footmen  to  her  service. 

One  afternoon,  returning  from  one  of  her  daily 
walks,  she  found  a  stranger  on  the  castle  terrace,  in 
conversation  with  the  butler.  As  it  was  warm  autumn 
weather,  Lydia  was  surprised  to  see  a  woman  wearing 
a  black  silk  mantle  trimmed  with  fur,  and  heavily 
decorated  with  spurious  jet  beads.  However,  as  the 
female  inhabitants  of  Wiltstoken  always  approached 
Miss  Carew  in  their  best  raiment,  without  regard  to 
hours  or  seasons,  she  concluded  that  she  was  about  to 
be  asked  for  a  subscription  to  a  school  treat,  a  temper- 
ance festival,  or  perhaps  a  testimonial  to  one  of  the 
Wiltstoken  curates. 

When  she  came  nearer  she  saw  that  the  stranger 
was  an  elderly  lady — or  possibly  not  a  lady — with 
crimped  hair,  and  ringlets  hanging  at  each  ear  in  a 
fashion  then  long  obsolete. 

"  Here  is  Miss  Carew,"  said  the  butler,  shortly,  as 
if  the  old  lady  had  tried  his  temper.  "  You  had  better 
talk  to  her  yourself." 

At  this  she  seemed  fluttered,  and  made  a  solemn 
courtesy.  Lydia,  noticing  the  courtesy  and  the  curls, 
guessed  that  her  visitor  kept  a  dancing  academy. 
Yet  a. certain  contradictory  hardihood  in  her  frame 
and  bearing  suggested  that  perhaps  she  kept  a  tavern. 
However,  as  her  face  was,  on  the  whole,  an  anxious 
and  a  good  face,  and  as  her  attitude  towards  the  lady 
of  the  castle  was  one  of  embarrassed  humility,  Lydia 

275 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

acknowledged  her  salutation  kindly,  and   waited  for 
her  to  speak. 

"I  hope  you  won't  consider  it  a  liberty,"  said  the 
stranger,  tremulously.     "I'm  Mrs.  Skene." 

Lydia  became  ominously  grave;  and  Mrs.  Skene 
reddened  a  little.  Then  she  continued,  as  if  repeat- 
ing a  carefully  prepared  and  rehearsed  speech,  "It 
would  be  esteemed  a  favor  if  I  might  have  the  honor 
of  a  few  words  in  private  with  your  ladyship." 

Lydia  looked  and  felt  somewhat  stern;  but  it  was 
not  in  her  nature  to  rebuff  any  one  without  strong 
provocation.  She  invited  her  visitor  to  enter,  and  led 
the  way  to  the  circular  drawing-room,  the  strange 
decorations  of  which  exactly  accorded  with  Mrs. 
Skene's  ideas  of  aristocratic  splendor.  As  a  professor 
of  deportment  and  etiquette,  the  ex-champion's  wife 
was  nervous  under  the  observation  of  such  an  expert 
as  Lydia;  but  she  got  safely  seated  without  having 
made  a  mistake  to  reproach  herself  with.  For,  al- 
though entering  a  room  seems  a  simple  matter  to 
many  persons,  it  was  to  Mrs.  Skene  an  operation  gov- 
erned by  the  strict  laws  of  the  art  she  professed,  and 
one  so  elaborate  that  few  of  her  pupils  mastered  it  sat- 
isfactorily with  less  than  a  month's  practice.  Mrs. 
Skene  soon  dismissed  it  from  her  mind.  She  was  too 
old  to  dwell  upon  such  vanities  when  real  anxieties 
were  pressing  upon  her. 

"  Oh,  miss,"  she  began,  appealingly,  "  the  boy  !  " 

Lydia  knew  at  once  who  was  meant.  But  she  re- 
peated, as  if  at  a  loss,  "  The  boy  ?  "  And  immediately 
accused  herself  of  insincerity. 

276 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 


"  Our  boy,  ma'am.     Cashel." 

"Mrs.  Skene  !  "  said  Lydia,  reproachfully. 

Mrs.  Skene  understood  all  that  Lydia's  tone  im- 
plied. "I  know,  ma'am,"  she  pleaded.  "I  know 
well.  But  what  could  I  do  but  come  to  you  ?  What- 
ever you  said  to  him,  it  has  gone  to  his  heart;  and  he's 
dying." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Lydia,  promptly;  "  men  do  not 
die  of  such  things;  and  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  is  not  so 
deficient  either  in  robustness  of  body  or  hardness  of 
heart  as  to  be  an  exception  to  that  rule." 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  Mrs.  Skene,  sadly.  "You  are 
thinking  of  the  profession.  You  can't  believe  he  has 
any  feelings  because  he  fights.  Ah,  miss,  if  you  only 
knew  them  as  I  do  !  More  tender-hearted  men  don'fc 
breathe.  Cashel  is  like  a  young  child,  his  feelings  are 
that  easily  touched;  and  I  have  known  stronger  than  he 
to  die  of  broken  hearts  only  because  they  were  unlucky 
in  their  calling.  Just  think  what  a  high-spirited 
young  man  must  feel  when  a  lady  calls  him  a  wild 
beast.  That  was  a  cruel  word,  miss;  it  was,  in- 
deed." 

Lydia  was  so  disconcerted  by  this  attack  that  she 
had  to  pause  awhile  before  replying.  Then  she  said, 
"Are  you  aware,  Mrs.  Skene,  that  my  knowledge  of 
Mr.  Byron  is  very  slight — that  I  have  not  seen  him 
ten  times  in  my  life  ?  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  the 
circumstances  in  which  I  last  saw  him.  I  was  greatly 
shocked  by  the  injuries  he  had  inflicted  on  another 
man ;  and  I  believe  I  spoke  of  them  as  the  work  of  a 
wild  beast.     For  your  sake,  I  am  sorry  I  said  so;  for 

277 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

he  has  told  me  that  he  regards  you  as  his  mother; 
and—" 

"  Oh,  no  !  Far  from  it,  miss.  I  ask  your  pardon 
a  thousand  times  for  taking  the  word  out  of  your 
mouth;  but  me  and  Ned  is  no  more  to  him  than  your 
housekeeper  or  governess  might  be  to  you.  That's 
what  I'm  afraid  you  don't  understand,  miss.  He's  no 
relation  of  ours.  I  do  assure  you  that  he's  a  gentle- 
man born  and  bred;  and  when  we  go  back  to  Mel- 
bourne next  Christmas,  it  will  be  just  the  same  as  if 
he  had  never  known  us." 

"  I  hope  he  will  not  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  forget 
you.     He  has  told  me  his  history. " 

"That's  more  than  he  ever  told  me,  miss;  so  you 
may  judge  how  much  he  thinks  of  you." 

A  pause  followed  this.  Mrs.  Skene  felt  that  the 
first  exchange  was  over,  and  that  she  had  got  the 
better  in  it. 

"Mrs.  Skene,"  said  Lydia  then,  penetratingly; 
"  when  you  came  to  pay  me  this  visit,  what  object  did 
you  propose  to  yourself  ?  What  do  you  expect  me  to 
do?" 

"Well,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Skene,  troubled,  "the 
poor  lad  has  had  crosses  lately.  There  was  the  disap- 
pointment about  you — the  first  one,  I  mean — that  had 
been  preying  on  his  mind  for  a  long  time.  Then 
there  was  that  exhibition  spar  at  the  Agricultural  Hall, 
when  Paradise  acted  so  dishonorable.  Cashel  heard 
that  you  were  looking  on;  and  then  he  read  the 
shameful  way  the  newspapers  wrote  of  him;  and  he 
thought  you'd   believe  it  all.     I  couldn't  get  that 

278 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

thought  out  of  his  head.  I  said  to  him,  over  and  over 
again — " 

"  Excuse  me/'  said  Lydia,  interrupting.  "  We  had 
better  be  frank  with  one  another.  It  is  useless  to  as- 
sume that  he  mistook  my  feeling  on  that  subject.  I 
was  shocked  by  the  severity  with  which  he  treated  his 
opponent." 

"But  bless  you,  that's  his  business/'  said  Mrs. 
Skene,  opening  her  eyes  widely.  "I  put  it  to  you, 
miss,"  she  continued,  as  if  mildly  reprobating  some 
want  of  principle  on  Lydia's  part,  "whether  an  hon- 
est man  shouldn't  fulfil  his  engagements.  I  assure 
you  that  the  pay  a  respectable  professional  usually  gets 
for  a  spar  like  that  is  half  a  guinea;  and  that  was  all 
Paradise  got.  But  Cashel  stood  on  his  reputation, 
and  wouldn't  take  less  than  ten  guineas;  and  he  got 
it,  too.  Now  many  another  in  his  position  would 
have  gone  into  the  ring  and  fooled  away  the  time  pre- 
tending to  box,  and  just  swindling  those  that  paid 
him.  But  Cashel  is  as  honest  and  high-minded  as  a 
king.  You  saw  for  yourself  the  trouble  he  took.  He 
couldn't  have  spared  himself  less  if  he  had  been  fight- 
ing for  a  thousand  a  side  and  the  belt,  instead  of  for 
a  paltry  ten  guineas.  Surely  you  don't  think  the 
worse  of  him  for  his  honesty,  miss  ?  " 

"I  confess,"  said  Lydia,  laughing  in  spite  of  her- 
self, "  that  your  view  of  the  transaction  did  not  occur 
to  me." 

"  Of  course  not,  ma'am;  no  more  it  wouldn't  to 
any  one,  without  they  were  accustomed  to  know  the 
right  and  wrong  of  the  profession.     Well,  as  I  was 

279 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

saying,  miss,  that  was  a  fresh  disappointment  to  him. 
It  worrited  him  more  than  you  can  imagine.  Then 
came  a  deal  of  bother  about  the  match  with  Paradise. 
First  Paradise  could  only  get  five  hundred  pounds; 
and  the  boy  wouldn't  agree  for  less  than  a  thousand. 
I  think  it's  on  your  account  that  he's  been  so  partic- 
ular about  the  money  of  late ;  for  he  was  never  covet- 
ous before.  Then  Mellish  was  bent  on  its  coming  off 
down  hereabouts;  and  the  poor  lad  was  so  mortal 
afraid  of  its  getting  to  your  ears,  that  he  wouldn't 
consent  until  they  persuaded  him  you  would  be  in 
foreign  parts  in  August.  Glad  I  was  when  the  articles 
were  signed  at  last,  before  he  was  worrited  into  his 
grave.  All  the  time  he  was  training  he  was  longing 
for  a  sight  of  you;  but  he  went  through  with  it  as 
steady  and  faithful  as  a  man  could.  And  he  trained 
beautiful.  I  saw  him  on  the  morning  of  the  fight; 
and  he  was  like  a  shining  angel;  it  would  have  done  a 
lady's  heart  good  to  look  at  him.  Ned  went  about 
like  a  madman  offering  twenty  to  one  on  him :  if  he 
had  lost,  we  should  have  been  ruined  at  this  moment. 
And  then  to  think  of  the  police  coming  just  as  he  was 
finishing  Paradise.  I  cried  like  a  child  when  I  heard 
of  it:  I  don't  think  there  was  ever  anything  so  cruel. 
And  he  could  have  finished  him  quarter  of  an  hour 
sooner,  only  he  held  back  to  make  the  market  for 
Ned."  Here  Mrs.  Skene,  overcome,  blew  her  nose 
before  proceeding.  "  Then,  on  the  top  of  that,  came 
what  passed  betwixt  you  and  him,  and  made  him  give 
himself  up  to  the  police.  Lord  Worthington  bailed 
him  out;  but  what  with  the  disgrace  and  the  disap- 

280 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

pointment,  and  his  time  and  money  thrown  away,  and 
the  sting  of  your  words,  all  coming  together,  he  was 
quite  broken-hearted.  And  now  he  mopes  and  frets; 
and  neither  me  nor  Ned  nor  Fan  can  get  any  good  of 
him.  They  tell  me  that  he  won't  be  sent  to  prison; 
but  if  he  is  " — here  Mrs.  Skene  broke  down  and  began 
to  cry — "  it  will  be  the  death  of  him,  and  God  forgive 
those  that  have  brought  it  about." 

Sorrow  always  softened  Lydia;  but  tears  hardened 
her  again;  she  had  no  patience  with  them. 

"And  the  other  man?"  she  said.  "Have  you 
heard  anything  of  him?  I  suppose  he  is  in  some 
hospital." 

"  In  hospital  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Skene,  checking  her 
tears  in  alarm.     "  Who  ?  " 

"  Paradise,"  replied  Lydia,  pronouncing  the  name 
reluctantly. 

"He  in  hospital !  Why,  bless  your  innocence, 
miss,  I  saw  him  yesterday,  looking  as  well  as  such  an 
ugly  brute  could  look — not  a  mark  on  him,  and  he 
bragging  what  he  would  have  done  to  Cashel  if  the 
police  hadn't  come  up.  He's  a  nasty,  low  fighting 
man,  so  he  is;  and  I'm  only  sorry  that  our  boy  de- 
meaned himself  to  strip  with  the  like  of  him.  I  hear 
that  Cashel  made  a  perfect  picture  of  him,  and  that 
you  saw  him.  I  suppose  you  were  frightened,  ma'am, 
and  very  naturally,  too,  not  being  used  to  such  sights. 
I  have  had  my  Ned  brought  home  to  me  in  that  state 
that  I  have  poured  brandy  into  his  eye,  thinking  it 
was  his  mouth ;  and  even  Cashel,  careful  as  he  is,  has 
been  nearly  blind  for  three  days.      It  is  not  to  be  ex- 

281 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

pected  that  they  could  have  all  the  money  for  nothing. 
Don't  let  it  prey  on  your  mind,  miss.  If  you  mar- 
ried— I  am  only  supposing  it,"  said  Mrs.  Skene  in 
soothing  parenthesis  as  she  saw  Lydia  shrink  from  the 
word — "if  you  were  married  to  a  great  surgeon,  as 
you  might  be  without  derogation  to  your  high  rank, 
you'd  be  ready  to  faint  if  you  saw  him  cut  off  a  leg  or 
an  arm,  as  he  would  have  to  do  every  day  for  his 
livelihood;  but  you'd  be  proud  of  his  cleverness  in 
being  able  to  do  it.  That's  how  I  feel  with  regard  to 
Ned.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  ma'am,  I  shouldn't  like  to 
see  him  in  the  ring  no  more  than  the  lady  of  an  officer 
in  the  Guards  would  like  to  see  her  husband  in  the 
field  of  battle  running  his  sword  into  the  poor  blacks 
or  into  the  French;  but  as  it's  his  profession,  and 
people  think  so  highly  of  him  for  it,  I  make  up  my 
mind  to  it;  and  now  I  take  quite  an  interest  in  it, 
particularly  as  it  does  nobody  any  harm.  Not  that  I 
would  have  you  think  that  Ned  ever  took  the  arm  or 
leg  off  a  man:  Lord  forbid — or  Cashel  either.  Oh, 
ma'am,  I  thank  you  kindly,  and  I'm  sorry  you  should 
have  given  yourself  the  trouble."  This  referred  to 
the  entry  of  a  servant  with  tea. 

"Still,"  said  Lydia,  when  they  were  at  leisure  to 
resume  the  conversation,  "  I  do  not  quite  understand 
why  you  have  come  to  me.  Personally  you  are  quite 
welcome;  but  in  what  way  did  you  expect  to  relieve 
Mr.  Byron's  mind  by  visiting  me  ?  Did  he  ask  you 
to  come?" 

"  He'd  have  died  first.  I  came  down  of  my  own 
accord,  knowing  what  was  the  matter  with  him." 

282 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"And  what  then?" 

Mrs.  Skene  looked  around  to  satisfy  herself  that 
they  were  alone.  Then  she  leaned  towards  Lydia, 
and  said  in  an  emphatic  whisper, 

"  Why  won't  you  marry  him,  miss  ?  " 

"Because  I  don't  choose,  Mrs.  Skene,"  said  Lydia, 
with  perfect  good-humor. 

"  But  consider  a  little,  miss.  "Where  will  you  ever 
get  such  another  chance  ?  Only  think  what  a  man  he 
is  !  champion  of  the  world  and  a  gentleman  as  well. 
The  two  things  have  never  happened  before,  and 
never  will  again.  I  have  known  lots  of  champions, 
but  they  were  not  fit  company  for  the  like  of  you. 
Ned  was  champion  when  I  married  him;  and  my  fam- 
ily thought  that  I  lowered  myself  in  doing  it,  although 
I  was  only  a  professional  dancer  on  the  stage.  The 
men  in  the  ring  are  common  men  mostly;  and  so, 
though  they  are  the  best  men  in  the  kingdom,  ladies 
are  cut  off  from  their  society.  But  it  has  been  your 
good  luck  to  take  the  fancy  of  one  that's  a  gentleman. 
What  more  could  a  lady  desire  ?  Where  will  you  find 
his  equal  in  health,  strength,  good  looks,  or  good 
manners  ?  As  to  his  character,  I  can  tell  you  about 
that.  In  Melbourne,  as  you  may  suppose,  all  the 
girls  and  women  were  breaking  their  hearts  for  his 
sake.  I  declare  to  you  that  I  used  to  have  two  or  three 
of  them  in  every  evening  merely  to  look  at  him,  and 
he,  poor  innocent  lad,  taking  no  more  notice  of  them 
than  if  they  were  cabbages.  He  used  to  be  glad  to 
get  away  from  them  by  going  into  the  saloon  and  box- 
ing with  the  gentlemen;  and  then  they  used  to  peep 

283 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

at  hini  through  the  door.  They  never  got  a  wink  irom 
him.  You  were  the  first,  Miss  Carew;  and,  believe 
me,  you  will  be  the  last.  If  there  had  ever  been  an- 
other he  couldn't  have  kept  it  from  me;  because  his 
disposition  is  as  open  as  a  child's.  And  his  honesty  is 
beyond  everything  you  can  imagine.  I  have  known 
him  to  be  offered  eight  hundred  pounds  to  lose  a  fight 
that  he  could  only  get  two  hundred  by  winning,  not 
to  mention  his  chance  of  getting  nothing  at  all  if  he 
lost  honestly.  You  know — for  I  see  you  know  the 
world,  ma'am — how  few  men  would  be  proof  against 
such  a  temptation.  There  are  men  high  up  in  their 
profession — so  high  that  you'd  as  soon  suspect  the 
queen  on  her  throne  of  selling  her  country's  battles  as 
them — that  fight  cross  on  the  sly  when  it's  made  worth 
their  while.  My  Ned  is  no  low  prize-fighter,  as  is  well 
known;  but  when  he  let  himself  be  beat  by  that  little 
Killarney  Primrose,  and  went  out  and  bought  a  horse 
and  trap  next  day,  what  could  I  think?  There, 
ma'am,  I  tell  you  that  of  my  own  husband;  and  I  tell 
you  that  Cashel  never  was  beaten,  although  times  out 
of  mind  it  would  have  paid  him  better  to  lose  than  to 
win,  along  of  those  wicked  betting  men.  Not  an 
angry  word  have  I  ever  had  from  him,  nor  the  sign  of 
liquor  have  I  ever  seen  on  him,  except  once  on  Ned's 
birthday;  and  then  nothing  but  fun  came  out  of  him 
in  his  cups,  when  the  truth  comes  out  of  all  men.  Oh, 
do  just  think  how  happy  you  ought  to  be,  miss,  if  you 
would  only  bring  yourself  to  look  at  it  in  the  proper 
light.  A  gentleman  born  and  bred,  champion  of  the 
world,  sober,  honest,  spotless  as  the  unborn  babe,  able 

284 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

to  take  his  own  part  and  yours  in  any  society,  and  mad 
in  love  with  you  !  He  thinks  you  an  angel  from  heaven 
— and  so  I  am  sure  you  are,  miss,  in  your  heart.  I  do 
assure  you  that  my  Fan  gets  quite  put  out  because  she 
thinks  he  draws  comparisons  to  her  disadvantage.  I 
don't  think  you  can  be  so  hard  to  please  as  to  refuse 
him,  miss." 

Lydia  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  looked  at  Mrs. 
Skene  with  a  curious  expression  which  soon  bright- 
ened into  an  irrepressible  smile.  Mrs.  Skene  smiled 
very  slightly  in  complaisance,  but  conveyed  by  her 
serious  brow  that  what  she  had  said  was  no  laughing 
matter. 

"  I  must  take  some  time  to  consider  all  that  you 
have  so  eloquently  urged,"  said  Lydia.  "I  am  in 
earnest,  Mrs.  Skene;  you  have  produced  a  great  effect 
upon  me.  Now  let  us  talk  of  something  else  for  the 
present.     Your  daughter  is  quite  well,  I  hope." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  ma'am,  she  enjoys  her  health." 

"And  you  also?" 

"  I  am  as  well  as  can  be  expected,"  said  Mrs.  Skene, 
too  fond  of  commiseration  to  admit  that  she  was  per- 
fectly well. 

"You  must  have  a  rare  sense  of  security,"  said 
Lydia,  watching  her,  "  being  happily  married  to  so 
celebrated  a — a  professor  of  boxing  as  Mr.  Skene.  Is 
it  not  pleasant  to  have  a  powerful  protector  ?  " 

"  Ah,  miss,  you  little  know,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Skene, 
falling  into  the  trap  baited  by  her  own  grievances, 
and  losing  sight  of  Oashel's  interests.  "The  fear  of 
his  getting  into  trouble  is  never  off  my  mind.     Ned 

285 


Cash  el  Byron's  Profession 

is  quietness  itself  until  he  has  a  drop  of  drink  in  him; 
and  then  he  is  like  the  rest — ready  to  fight  the  first  that 
provokes  him.  And  if  the  police  get  hold  of  him  he 
has  no  chance.  There's  no  justice  for  a  fighting  man. 
Just  let  it  be  said  that  he's  a  professional,  and  that's 
enough  for  the  magistrate;  away  with  him  to  prison, 
and  good-by  to  his  pupils  and  his  respectability  at 
once.  That's  what  I  live  in  terror  of.  And  as  to 
being  protected,  I'd  let  myself  be  robbed  fifty  times 
over  sooner  than  say  a  word  to  him  that  might  bring 
on  a  quarrel.  Many  a  time  when  we  were  driving 
home  of  a  night  have  I  overpaid  the  cabman  on  the 
sly,  afraid  he  would  grumble  and  provoke  Ned.  It's 
the  drink  that  does  it  all.  Gentlemen  are  proud  to 
be  seen  speaking  with  him  in  public;  and  they  come 
up  one  after  another  asking  what  he'll  have,  until  the 
next  thing  he  knows  is  that  he's  in  bed  with  his  boots 
on,  his  wrist  sprained,  and  maybe  his  eye  black,  try- 
ing to  remember  what  he  was  doing  the  night  before. 
What  I  suffered  the  first  three  years  of  our  marriage 
none  can  tell.  Then  he  took  the  pledge,  and  ever 
since  that  he's  been  very  good — I  haven't  seen  him 
what  you  could  fairly  call  drunk,  not  more  than  three 
times  a  year.  It  was  the  blessing  of  God,  and  a  beat- 
ing he  got  from  a  milkman  in  Westminster,  that  made 
him  ashamed  of  himself.  I  kept  him  to  it  and  made 
him  emigrate  out  of  the  way  of  his  old  friends.  Since 
that,  there  has  been  a  blessing  on  him;  and  we've 
prospered." 

"  Is  Cashel  quarrelsome  ?  " 

At  the  tone  of  this  question  Mrs.  Skene  suddenly 
286 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

realized  the  untimeliness  of  her  complaints.  "  No, 
no,"  she  protested.  "He  never  drinks;  and  as  to 
righting,  if  you  can  believe  such  a  thing,  miss,  I  don't 
think  he  has  had  a  casual  turnup  three  times  in  his 
life — not  oftener,  at  any  rate.  All  he  wants  is  to  be 
married;  and  then  he'll  be  steady  to  his  grave.  But 
if  he's  left  adrift  now,  Lord  knows  what  will  become 
of  him.  He'll  mope  first — he's  moping  at  present — 
then  he'll  drink;  then  he'll  lose  his  pupils,  get  out  of 
condition,  be  beaten,  and —  One  word  from  you, 
miss,  would  save  him.     If  I  might  just  tell  him — " 

"Nothing,"  said  Lydia.  "Absolutely  nothing. 
The  only  assurance  I  can  give  you  is  that  you  have 
softened  the  hard  opinion  that  I  had  formed  of  some 
of  his  actions.  But  that  I  should  marry  Mr.  Cashel 
Byron  is  simply  the  most  improbable  thing  in  the 
world.  All  questions  of  personal  inclination  apart, 
the  mere  improbability  is  enough  in  itself  to  appal  an 
ordinary  woman." 

Mrs.  Skene  did  not  quite  understand  this;  but  she 
understood  sufficiently  for  her  purpose.  She  rose  to 
go,  shaking  her  head  despondently,  and  saying,  "I 
see  how  it  is,  ma'am.  You  think  him  beneath  you. 
Your  relations  wouldn't  like  it." 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  my  relatives  would  be 
greatly  shocked;  and  I  am  bound  to  take  that  into 
account  for — what  it  is  worth." 

"We  should  never  trouble  you,"  said  Mrs.  Skene, 
lingering.  "England  will  see  the  last  of  us  in  a 
month  or  two." 

"  That  will  make  no  difference  to  me,  except  that  I 
287 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

shall  regret  not  being  able  to  have  a  pleasant  chat  with 
you  occasionally."  This  was  not  true;  but  Lydia 
fancied  she  was  beginning  to  take  a  hardened  delight 
in  lying. 

Mrs.  Skene  was  not  to  be  consoled  by  compliments. 
She  again  shook  her  head.  "It  is  very  kind  of  you  to 
give  me  good  words,  miss,"  she  said;  "but  if  I  might 
have  one  for  the  boy  you  could  say  what  you  liked  to 
me." 

Lydia  considered  far  before  she  replied.  At  last 
she  said,  "I  am  sorry  I  spoke  harshly  to  him,  since, 
driven  as  he  was  by  circumstances,  I  cannot  see  how 
he  could  have  acted  otherwise  than  he  did.  And  I 
overlooked  the  economic  conditions  of  his  profession. 
In  short,  I  am  not  used  to  fisticuffs;  and  what  I  saw 
shocked  me  so  much  that  I  was  unreasonable.  But," 
continued  Lydia,  checking  Mrs.  Skene's  rising  hope 
with  a  warning  finger,  "  how,  if  you  tell  him  this,  will 
you  make  him  understand  that  I  say  so  as  an  act  of 
justice,  and  not  in  the  least  as  a  proffer  of  affection  ?  " 

"A  crumb  of  comfort  will  satisfy  him,  miss.  I'll 
just  tell  him  that  I've  seen  you,  and  that  you  meant 
nothing  by  what  you  said  the  other  day;  and — " 

"  Mrs.  Skene,"  said  Lydia,  interrupting  her  softly; 
"  tell  him  nothing  at  all  as  yet.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  at  last.  If  he  does  not  hear  from  me  within  a 
fortnight  you  may  tell  him  what  you  please.  Can 
you  wait  so  long?" 

"  Of  course.  Whatever  you  wish,  ma'am.  But 
Mellish's  benefit  is  to  be  to-morrow  night;  and — " 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  Mellish  or  his  benefit  ?  " 
288 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Mrs.  Skene,  abashed,  murmured  apologetically  that 
she  was  only  wishful  that  the  boy  should  do  himself 
credit. 

"If  he  is  to  benefit  Mellish  by  beating  somebody, 
he  will  not  be  behindhand.  Remember  you  are  not  to 
mention  me  for  a  fortnight.     Is  that  a  bargain  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  wish,  ma'am,"  repeated  Mrs.  Skene, 
hardly  satisfied.  But  Lydia  gave  her  no  further  com- 
fort; so  she  begged  to  take  her  leave,  expressing  a 
hope  that  things  would  turn  out  to  the  advantage  of 
all  parties.  Then  Lydia  insisted  on  her  partaking  of 
some  solid  refreshment,  and  afterwards  drove  her  to 
the  railway  station  in  the  pony-carriage.  Just  before 
they  parted  Lydia,  suddenly  recurring  to  their  former 
subject,  said, 

"  Does  Mr.  Byron  ever  think?  " 

"  Think  !  "  said  Mrs.  Skene  emphatically.  "  Never. 
There  isn't  a  more  cheerful  lad  in  existence,  miss." 

Then  Mrs.  Skene  was  carried  away  to  London, 
wondering  whether  it  could  be  quite  right  for  a  young 
lady  to  live  in  a  gorgeous  castle  without  any  elder  of 
her  own  sex,  and  to  speak  freely  and  civilly  to  her 
inferiors.  When  she  got  home  she  said  nothing  of 
her  excursion  to  Mr.  Skene,  in  whose  disposition  valor 
so  entirely  took  the  place  of  discretion  that  he  had 
never  been  known  to  keep  a  secret  except  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  a  projected  fight.  But  she  sat  up  late 
with  her  daughter  Fanny,  tantalizing  her  by  accounts 
of  the  splendor  of  the  castle,  and  consoling  her  by 
describing  Miss  Carew  as  a  slight  creature  with  red 
hair  and  no  figure  (Fanny  having  jet  black  hair,  fine 
19  289 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

arms,  and  being  one  of  CashePs  most  proficient 
pupils). 

"All  the  same,  Fan,"  added  Mrs.  Skene,  as  she 
took  her  candlestick  at  two  in  the  morning,  "if  it 
comes  off,  Cashel  will  never  be  master  in  his  own 
house." 

"lean  see  that  very  plain,"  said  Fanny;  "but  if 
respectable  professional  people  are  not  good  enough 
for  him,  he  will  have  only  himself  to  thank  if  he  gets 
himself  looked  down  upon  by  empty-headed  swells." 

Meanwhile,  Lydia,  on  her  return  to  the  castle  after 
a  long  drive  round  the  country,  had  attempted  to 
overcome  an  attack  of  restlessness  by  setting  to  work 
on  the  biography  of  her  father.  With  a  view  to  pre- 
paring a  chapter  on  his  taste  in  literature  she  had 
lately  been  examining  his  favorite  books  for  marked 
passages.  She  now  resumed  this  search,  not  setting 
methodically  to  work,  but  standing  perched  on  the 
library  ladder,  taking  down  volume  after  volume,  and 
occasionally  dipping  into  the  contents  for  a  few  pages 
or  so.  At  this  desultory  work  the  time  passed  as 
imperceptibly  as  the  shadows  lengthened.  The  last 
book  she  examined  was  a  volume  of  poems.  There 
were  no  marks  in  it;  but  it  opened  at  a  page  which 
had  evidently  lain  open  often  before.  The  first  words 
Lydia  saw  were  these : 

"  What  would  I  give  for  a  heart  of  flesh  to  warm  me  through 
Instead  of  this  heart  of  stone  ice-cold  whatever  I  do  ; 
Hard  and  cold  and  small,  of  all  hearts  the  worst  of  all." 

Lydia  hastily  stepped  down  from  the  ladder,  and 
290 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

recoiled  until  she  reached  a  chair,  where  she  sat  and 
read  and  reread  these  lines.  The  failing  light  roused 
her  to  action.  She  replaced  the  book  on  the  shelf, 
and  said,  as  she  went  to  the  writing-table,  "  If  such  a 
doubt  as  that  haunted  my  father  it  will  haunt  me, 
unless  I  settle  what  is  to  be  my  heart's  business  now 
and  forever.  If  it  be  possible  for  a  child  of  mine  to 
escape  this  curse  of  autovivisection,  it  must  inherit  its 
immunity  from  its  father,  and  not  from  me — from  the 
man  of  emotion  who  never  thinks,  and  not  from  the 
woman  of  introspection,  who  cannot  help  thinking. 
Be  it  so." 


291 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Before  many  days  had  elapsed  a  letter  came  for 
Cashel  as  he  sat  taking  tea  with  the  Skene  family. 
When  he  saw  the  handwriting,  a  deep  red  color 
mounted  to  his  temples. 

"  Oh,  Lor'  !  "  said  Miss  Skene,  who  sat  next  him. 
"Let's  read  it." 

"  Go  to  the  dickens,"  cried  Cashel,  hastily  baffling 
her  as  she  snatched  at  it. 

"Don't  worrit  him,  Fan,"  said  Mrs.  Skene,  ten- 
derly. 

"Not  for  the  world,  poor  dear,"  said  Miss  Skene, 
putting  her  hand  affectionately  on  his  shoulder.  "  Let 
me  just  peep  at  the  name — to  see  who  it's  from.  Do, 
Cashel,  dear.19 

"It's  from  nobody,"  said  Cashel.  "Here,  get 
out.  If  you  don't  let  me  alone  I'll  make  it  warm  for 
you  the  next  time  you  come  to  me  for  a  lesson." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Fanny,  contemptuously.  "  Who 
had  the  best  of  it  to-day,  I  should  like  to  know?  " 

"  Gev'  him  a  hot  un  on  the  chin  with  her  right  as 
ever  I  see,"  observed  Skene,  with  hoarse  mirth. 

Cashel  went  away  from  the  table,  out  of  Fanny's 
reach;  and  read  the  letter,  which  ran  thus: 

292 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Regent's  Park. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Cashel  Byron, — I  am  desirous  that  you 
should  meet  a  lady  friend  of  mine.     She  will  be  here 
at  three  o'clock  to-morrow  afternoon.      You  would 
oblige  me  greatly  by  calling  on  me  at  that  hour. 
"  Yours  faithfully, 

"Lydia  Carew." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  there  was  no 
sound  in  the  room  except  the  ticking  of  the  clock  and 
the  munching  of  shrimps  by  the  ex-champion. 

"Good  news,  I  hope,  Cashel,"  said  Mrs.  Skene,  at 
last,  tremulously. 

"  Blow  me  if  I  understand  it,"  said  Cashel.  "  Can 
you  make  it  out?  "  And  he  handed  the  letter  to  his 
adopted  mother.  Skene  ceased  eating  to  see  his  wife 
read,  a  feat  which  was  to  him  one  of  the  wonders  of 
science. 

"  I  think  the  lady  she  mentions  must  be  herself," 
said  Mrs.  Skene,  after  some  consideration. 

"  No,"  said  Cashel,  shaking  his  head.  "  She  always 
says  what  she  means." 

"  Ah,"  said  Skene,  cunningly;  "  but  she  can't  write 
it  though.  That's  the  worst  of  writing;  no  one  can't 
never  tell  exactly  what  it  means.  I  never  signed  arti- 
cles yet  that  there  weren't  some  misunderstanding 
about ;  and  articles  is  the  best  writing  that  can  be  had 
anywhere." 

"You'd  better  go  and  see  what  it  means,"  said 
Mrs.  Skene. 

"  Right,"  said  Skene.  "Go  and  have  it  out  with 
her,  my  boy." 

293 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"It  is  short,  and  not  particularly  sweet/'  said 
Fanny.  "  She  might  have  had  the  civility  to  put  her 
crest  at  the  top." 

"What  would  you  give  to  be  her?"  said  Cashel, 
derisively,  catching  the  letter  as  she  tossed  it  disdain- 
fully to  him. 

"  If  I  was  I'd  respect  myself  more  than  to  throw 
myself  at  your  head." 

"Hush,  Fanny,"  said  Mrs.  Skene;  "you're  too 
sharp.  Ned,  you  oughtn't  to  encourage  her  by  laugh- 
ing." 

Next  day  Cashel  rose  early,  went  for  a  walk,  paid 
extra  attention  to  his  diet,  took  some  exercise  with 
the  gloves,  had  a  bath  and  a  rub  down,  and  presented 
himself  at  Eegent's  Park  at  three  o'clock  in  excellent 
condition.  Expecting  to  see  Bashville,  he  was  sur- 
prised when  the  door  was  opened  by  a  female  servant. 

"  Miss  Carew  at  home  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  falling  in  love  with  him 
at  first  sight.     "  Mr.  Byron,  sir  ?  " 

"That's  me,"  said  Cashel.  "I  say,  is  there  any 
one  with  her  ?  " 

"Only  a  lady,  sir." 

"  Oh,  d n  !     Well,  it  can't  be  helped.     Never 

say  die." 

The  girl  led  him  then  to  a  door,  opened  it,  and 
when  he  entered  shut  it  softly  without  announcing 
him.  The  room  in  which  he  found  himself  was  a  long 
one,  lighted  from  the  roof.  *  The  walls  were  hung  with 
pictures.  At  the  far  end,  with  their  backs  towards 
him,  were  two  ladies:    Lydia,  and  a  woman  whose 

294 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

noble  carriage  and  elegant  form  would  have  raised 
hopes  of  beauty  in  a  man  less  preoccupied  than  Cashel. 
But  he,  after  advancing  some  distance  with  his  eyes 
on  Lydia,  suddenly  changed  countenance,  stopped, 
and  was  actually  turning  to  fly,  when  the  ladies,  hear- 
ing his  light  step,  faced  about  and  rooted  him  to  the 
spot.  As  Lydia  offered  him  her  hand,  her  companion, 
who  had  surveyed  the  visitor  first  with  indifference, 
and  then  with  incredulous  surprise,  exclaimed,  with  a 
burst  of  delighted  recognition,  like  a  child  finding  a 
long-lost  plaything,'  "  My  darling  boy  !  "  And  going 
to  Cashel  with  the  grace  of  a  swan,  she  clasped  him  in 
her  arms.  In  acknowledgment  of  which  he  thrust  his 
red,  discomfited  face  over  her  shoulder,  winked  at 
Lydia  with  his  tongue  in  his  cheek,  and  said, 

"  This  is  what  you  may  call  the  voice  of  nature,  and 
no  mistake. " 

"  What  a  splendid  creature  you  are  ! "  said  Mrs. 
Byron,  holding  him  a  little  way  from  her,  the  better 
to  admire  him.  "  Do  you  know  how  handsome  you 
are,  you  wretch  ?  " 

"How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Carew,"  said  Cashel,  breaking 
loose,  and  turning  to  Lydia.  "  Never  mind  her;  it's 
only  my  mother.  At  least,"  he  added,  as  if  correct- 
ing himself,  "  she's  my  mamma." 

"And  where  have  you  come  from?  Where  have 
you  been  ?  Do  you  know  that  I  have  not  seen  you  for 
seven  years,  you  unnatural  boy  ?  Think  of  his  being 
my  son,  Miss  Carew.  Give*  me  another  kiss,  my 
own,"  she'  continued,  grasping  his  arm  affectionately. 
"  What  a  muscular  creature  you  are  !  " 

295 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"Kiss  away  as  much  as  you  like,"  said  Cashel, 
struggling  with  the  old  school-boy  sullenness  as  it  re- 
turned oppressively  upon  him.  "  I  suppose  you're 
well.     You  look  right  enough." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  mockingly,  beginning  to  despise 
him  for  his  inability  to  act  up  to  her  in  this  thrilling 
scene;  "I  am  right  enough.  Your  language  is  as 
refined  as  ever.  And  why  do  you  get  your  hair 
cropped  close  like  that?  You  must  let  it  grow, 
and—" 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  Cashel,  stopping  her  hand 
neatly  as  she  raised  it  to  rearrange  his  locks.  "  You 
just  drop  it,  or  I'll  walk  out  at  that  door  and  you 
won't  see  me  again  for  another  seven  years.  You  can 
either  take  me  as  you  find  me,  or  let  me  alone.  Absa- 
lom and  Dan  Mendoza  came  to  grief  through  wearing 
their  hair  long,  and  I  am  going  to  wear  mine 
short." 

Mrs.  Byron  became  a  shade  colder.  "  Indeed  !  "  she 
said.     "  Just  the  same  still,  Cashel  ?  " 

"Just  the  same,  both  one  and  other  of  us,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Before  you  spoke  six  words  I  felt  as  if  we'd 
parted  only  yesterday." 

"I  am  rather  taken  aback  by  the  success  of  my 
experiment,"  interposed  Lydia.  "  I  invited  you  pur- 
posely to  meet  one  another.  The  resemblance  between 
you  led  me  to  suspect  the  truth,  and  my  suspicion 
was  confirmed  by  the  account  Mr.  Byron  gave  me  of 
his  adventures." 

Mrs.  Byron's  vanity  was  touched.  "Is  he  like 
me?"  she  said,  scanning  his  features.     He,  without 

296 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

heeding  her,  said  to  Lydia  with  undisguised  morti- 
fication, 

"  And  was  that  why  you  sent  for  me  ?  " 

"  Are  you  disappointed  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

"  He  is  not  in  the  least  glad  to  see  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Byron,  plaintively.     "  He  has  no  heart." 

"  Now  she'll  go  on  for  the  next  hour,"  said  Cashel, 
looking  to  Lydia,  obviously  because  he  found  it  much 
pleasanter  than  looking  at  his  mother.  "  However, 
if  you  don't  care,  I  don't.     So,  fire  away,  mamma." 

"And  you  think  we  are  really  like  one  another?" 
said  Mrs.  Byron,  not  heeding  him.  "Yes;  I  think 
we  are.  There  is  a  certain —  Are  you  married, 
Cashel?  "  with  sudden  mistrust. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  shouted  Cashel.  "No;  but  I 
hope  to  be,  some  day,"  he  added,  venturing  to  glance 
again  at  Lydia,  who  was,  however,  attentively  observ- 
ing Mrs.  Byron. 

"  Well,  tell  me  everything  about  yourself.  What 
are  you  ?  Now,  I  do  hope,  Cashel,  that  you  have  not 
gone  upon  the  stage." 

"  The  stage  !  "  said  Cashel,  contemptuously.  "  Do 
I  look  like  it  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  do  not,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  whimsi- 
cally— "although  you  have  a  certain  odious  profes- 
sional air,  too.  What  did  you  do  when  you  ran  away 
so  scandalously  from  that  stupid  school  in  the  north  ? 
How  do  you  earn  your  living  ?     Or  do  you  earn  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do,  unless  I  am  fed  by  ravens,  as 
Elijah  was.  What  do  you  think  I  was  best  fitted  for 
by  my  education  and  bringing  up  ?     Sweep  a  crossing, 

297 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

perhaps  !     When  I  ran  away  from  Panley,  I  went  to 
sea." 

"  A  sailor,  of  all  things  !  You  don't  look  like  one. 
And  pray,  what  rank  have  you  attained  in  your  pro- 
fession ?  " 

"The  front  rank.  The  top  of  the  tree,"  said 
Cashel,  shortly. 

"  Mr.  Byron  is  not  at  present  following  the  profes- 
sion of  a  sailor;  nor  has  he  done  so  for  many  years," 
said  Lydia. 

Cashel  looked  at  her,  half  in  appeal,  half  in  remon- 
strance. 

"  Something  very  different,  indeed,"  pursued  Lydia, 
with  quiet  obstinacy.  "And  something  very  start- 
ling." 

'[Can't  you  shut  up?"  exclaimed  Cashel.  "I 
should  have  expected  more  sense  from  you.  What's 
the  use  of  setting  her  on  to  make  a  fuss  and  put  me  in 
a  rage  ?     I'll  go  away  if  you  don't  stop." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Byron.  "  Have 
you  been  doing  anything  disgraceful,  Cashel  ?  " 

"  There  she  goes.  I  told  you  so.  I  keep  a  gymna- 
sium, that's  all.  There's  nothing  disgraceful  in  that, 
I  hope." 

"A  gymnasium?"  repeated  Mrs.  Byron,  with  im- 
perious disgust.  "  What  nonsense  !  You  must  give 
up  everything  of  that  kind,  Cashel.  It  is  very  silly, 
and  very  low.  You  were  too  ridiculously  proud,  of 
course,  to  come  to  me  for  the  means  of  keeping  your- 
self in  a  proper  position.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to 
provide  you  with — " 

298 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

**  If  I  ever  take  a  penny  from  you,  may  I — " 
Cashel  caught  Lydia's  anxious  look,  and  checked  him- 
self. He  paused  and  got  away  a  step,  a  cunning  smile 
nickering  on  his  lips.  "  No,"  he  said;  "  it's  just  play- 
ing into  your  hands  to  lose  temper  with  you.  You 
think  you  know  me,  and  you  want  to  force  the  fight- 
ing. Well,  we'll  see.  Make  me  angry  now  if  you 
can." 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  for  anger,"  said 
Mrs.  Byron,  angry  herself .  "Your  temper  seems  to 
have  become  ungovernable — or,  rather,  to  have  re- 
mained so;  for  it  was  never  remarkable  for  sweetness." 

"No,"  retorted  Cashel,  jeering  good-humoredly. 
"  Not  the  slightest  occasion  to  lose  my  temper  !  Not 
when  I  am  told  that  I  am  silly  and  low  !  Why,  I 
think  you  must  fancy  that  you're  talking  to  your  little 
Cashel,  that  blessed  child  you  were  so  fond  of.  But 
you're  not.  You're  talking — now  for  a  screech,  Miss 
Carew  ! — to  the  champion  of  Australia,  the  United 
States,  and  England,  holder  of  three  silver  belts  and 
one  gold  one  (which  you  can  have  to  wear  in  '  King 
John'  if  you  think  it'll  become  you);  professor  of 
boxing  to  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  St.  James's,  and 
common  prize-fighter  to  the  whole  globe,  without  ref- 
erence to  weight  or  color,  for  not  less  than  five  hun- 
dred pounds  a  side.     That's  Cashel  Byron." 

Mrs.  Byron  recoiled,  astounded.  After  a  pause  she 
said,  "  Oh,  Cashel,  how  could  you  ?  "  Then,  approach- 
ing him  again,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  go  out 
and  fight  those  great  rough  savages?" 

"Yes,  I  do." 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  And  that  you  heat  them  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Ask  Miss  Oarew  how  Billy  Paradise  looked 
after  standing  before  me  for  an  hour." 

"  You  wonderful  boy  !  What  an  occupation  !  And 
you  have  done  all  this  in  your  own  name  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  have.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it.  I 
often  wondered  whether  you  had  seen  my  name  in  the 
papers." 

"I  never  read  the  papers.  But  you  must  have 
heard  of  my  return  to  England.  Why  did  you  not 
come  to  see  me?" 

"I  wasn't  quite  certain  that  you  would  like  it," 
said  Cashel,  uneasily,  avoiding  her  eye.  "  Hullo  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  attempted  to  refresh  himself  by 
another  look  at  Lydia,  "  she's  given  us  the  slip." 

"  She  is  quite  right  to  leave  us  alone  together  under 
the  circumstances.  And  now  tell  me  why  my  precious 
boy  should  doubt  that  his  own  mother  wished  to  see 
him." 

"I  don't  know  why  he  should,"  said  Cashel,  with 
melancholy  submission  to  her  affection.  "  But  he 
did." 

"  How  insensible  you  are  !  Did  you  not  know  that 
you  were  always  my  cherished  darling — my  only  son  ?  " 

Cashel,  who  was  now  sitting  beside  her  on  an  otto- 
man, groaned  and  moved  restlessly,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Are  you  glad  to  see  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  Cashel,  dismally,  "I  suppose  I  am. 
I —  By  Jingo,"  he  cried,  with  sudden  animation, 
"perhaps  you  can  give  me  a  lift  here.  I  never 
thought  of  that.      I  say,   mamma;   I  am  in  great 

300 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

trouble  at  present,  and  I  think  you  can  help  me  if  you 
will." 

Mrs.  Byron  looked  at  him  satirically.  But  she 
said,  soothingly,  "  Of  course  I  will  help  you — as  far  as 
I  am  able — my  precious  one.     All  I  possess  is  yours." 

Cashel  ground  his  feet  on  the  floor  impatiently,  and 
then  sprang  up.  After  an  interval,  during  which  he 
seemed  to  be  swallowing  some  indignant  protest,  he 
said, 

"  You  may  put  your  mind  at  rest,  once  and  for  all, 
on  the  subject  of  money.  I  don't  want  anything  of 
that  sort." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  so  independent,  Cashel." 

"So  ami." 

"Do,  pray,  be  more  amiable." 

"I  am  amiable  enough,"  he  cried,  desperately, 
"only  you  won't  listen." 

"  My  treasure,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  remorsefully. 
"What  is  the  matter?" 

"Well,"  said  Cashel,  somewhat  mollified,  "it  is 
this.     I  want  to  marry  Miss  Carew;  that's  all." 

"  You  marry  Miss  Carew  !  "  Mrs.  Byron's  tender- 
ness had  vanished,  and  her  tone  was  shrewd  and  con- 
temptuous.    "  Do  you  know,  you  silly  boy,  that — " 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  said  Cashel,  determinedly 
— "  what  she  is,  and  what  I  am,  and  the  rest  of  it. 
And  I  want  to  marry  her  ;  and,  what's  more,  I  will 
marry  her,  if  I  have  to  break  the  neck  of  every  swell 
in  London  first.  So  you  can  either  help  me  or  not,  as 
you  please;  but  if  you  won't,  never  call  me  your  pre- 
cious boy  any  more.     Now  !  " 

301 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Mrs.  Byron  abdicated  her  dominion  there  and  then 
forever.  She  sat  with  quite  a  mild  expression  for 
some  time  in  silence.     Then  she  said, 

"After  all,  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  not.  It 
would  be  a  very  good  match  for  you." 

"  Yes;  but  a  deuced  bad  one  for  her." 

"  Really,  I  do  not  see  that,  Oashel.  When  your 
uncle  dies,  I  suppose  you  will  succeed  to  the  Dorset- 
shire property." 

"  I  the  heir  to  a  property  !     Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  Don't  you  know  who  your  people 
are?" 

"  How  could  I  ?  You  never  told  me.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  I  have  an  uncle  ?  " 

"  Old  Bingley  Byron  ?     Certainly." 

"  Well,  I  am  blowed.  But — but — I  mean —  Sup- 
posing he  is  my  uncle,  am  I  his  lawful  heir?  " 

"Yes.  Walford  Byron,  the  only  other  brother  of 
your  father,  died  years  ago,  while  you  were  at  Mon- 
crief's;  and  he  had  no  sons.  Bingley  is  a  bache- 
lor." 

"But,"  said  Cashel,  cautiously,  "won't  there  be 
some  bother  about  my — at  least — " 

"  My  dearest  child,  what  are  you  thinking  or  talk- 
ing about  ?    Nothing  can  be  clearer  than  your  title." 

"Well,"  said  Cashel,  blushing,  "a  lot  of  people 
used  to  make  out  that  you  weren't  married  at  all." 

"  What  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Byron,  indignantly. 
"Oh,  they  dare  not  say  so  !  Impossible.  Why  did 
you  not  tell  me  at  once  ?  " 

"I  didn't  think  about  it,"  said  Cashel,  hastily  ex- 
302 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

cusiug  himself.  "  I  was  too  young  to  care.  It  doesn't 
matter  now.     My  father  is  dead,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  He  died  when  you  were  a  baby.  You  have  often 
made  me  angry  with  you,  poor  little  innocent,  by  re- 
minding me  of  him.     Do  not  talk  of  him  to  me." 

"Not  if  you  don't  wish.  Just  one  thing,  though, 
mamma.     Was  he  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"Of  course.     What  a  question  !  " 

"  Then  I  am  as  good  as  any  of  the  swells  that  think 
themselves  her  equals  ?  She  has  a  cousin  in  the  gov- 
ernment office;  a  fellow  who  gives  out  that  he  is  the 
home  secretary,  and  most  likely  sits  in  a  big  chair  in 
a  hall  and  cheeks  the  public.  Am  I  as  good  as  he 
is?" 

"  You  are  perfectly  well  connected  by  your  mother's 
side,  Cashel.  The  Byrons  are  only  commoners;  but 
even  they  are  one  of  the  oldest  county  families  in 
England." 

Cashel  began  to  show  signs  of  excitement.  "How 
much  a  year  are  they  worth  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"I  do  not  know  how  much  they  are  worth  now. 
Your  father  was  always  in  difficulties,  and  so  was  his 
father.  But  Bingley  is  a-  miser.  Five  thousand  a 
year,  perhaps." 

"  That's  an  independence.  That's  enough.  She 
said  she  couldn't  expect  a  man  to  be  so  thunderingly 
rich  as  she  is." 

"  Indeed?  Then  you  have  discussed  the  question 
with  her?" 

Cashel  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  servant  entered 
to  say  that  Miss  Carew  was  in  the  library,  and  begged 

303 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

that  they  would  come  to  her  as  soon  as  they  were  quite 
disengaged.  When  the  maid  withdrew  he  said, 
eagerly, 

"  I  wish  you'd  go  home,  mamma,  and  let  me  catch 
her  in  the  library  by  herself.  Tell  me  where  you  live, 
and  I'll  come  in  the  evening  and  tell  you  all  about  it. 
That  is,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  What  objection  could  I  possibly  have,  dearest  one  ? 
Are  you  sure  that  you  are  not  spoiling  your  chance  by 
too  much  haste  ?  She  has  no  occasion  to  hurry,  Cashel, 
and  she  knows  it." 

uIam  dead  certain  that  now  is  my  time  or  never. 
I  always  know  by  instinct  when  to  go  in  and  finish. 
Here's  your  mantle." 

"  In  such  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  your  poor  old  mother, 
Cashel?" 

"  Oh,  bother  !  you're  not  old.  You  won't  mind 
my  wanting  you  to  go  for  this  once,  will  you  ?  " 

She  smiled  affectionately,  put  on  her  mantle,  and 
turned  her  cheek  towards  him  to  be  kissed.  The  un- 
accustomed gesture  alarmed  him;  he  retreated  a  step, 
and  involuntary  assumed  an  attitude  of  self-defence, 
as  if  the  problem  before  him  were  a  pugilistic  one. 
Eecovering  himself  immediately,  he  kissed  her,  and 
impatiently  accompanied  her  to  the  house  door,  which 
he  closed  softly  behind  her,  leaving  her  to  walk  in 
search  of  her  carriage  alone.  Then  he  stole  up-stairs 
to  the  library,  where  he  found  Lydia  reading. 

"  She's  gone,"  he  said. 

Lydia  put  down  her  book,  looked  up  at  him,  saw 
what  was  coming,  looked  down  again  to  hide  a  spasm 

304 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

of  terror,  and  said,  with  a  steady  severity  that  cost  her 
a  great  effort,  "  I  hope  you  have  not  quarrelled." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  no  !  We  kissed  one  another  like 
turtle-doves.  At  odd  moments  she  wheedles  me  into 
feeling  fond  of  her  in  spite  of  myself.  She  went  away 
because  I  asked  her  to." 

"  And  why  do  you  ask  my  guests  to  go  away  ?  " 

"Because  I  wanted  to  be  alone  with  you.  Don't 
look  as  if  you  didn't  understand.  She's  told  me  a 
whole  heap  of  things  about  myself  that  alter  our  affairs 
completely.  My  birth  is  all  right ;  I'm  heir  to  a 
county  family  that  came  over  with  the  Conqueror,  and 
I  shall  have  a  decent  income.  I  can  afford  to  give 
away  weight  to  old  Webber  now." 

"Well,"  said  Lydia,  sternly. 

"Well,"  said  Cashel,  unabashed,  "the  only  use  of 
all  that  to  me  is  that  I  may  marry  if  I  like.  No  more 
fighting  or  teaching  now." 

"  And  when  you  are  married,  will  you  be  as  tender 
to  your  wife  as  you  are  to  your  mother  ?  " 

Cashel's  elation  vanished.  "  I  knew  you'd  think 
that,"  he  said.  "I  am  always  the  same  with  her;  I 
can't  help  it.  She  makes  me  look  like  a  fool,  or  like 
a  brute.     Have  I  ever  been  so  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia.  "  Except,"  she  added,  "  that 
you  have  never  shown  absolute  dislike  to  me." 

"  Ah  !  Except!  That's  a  very  big  except.  But  I 
don't  dislike  her.  Blood  is  thicker  than  water,  and  I 
have  a  softness  for  her;  only  I  won't  put  up  with  her 
nonsense.  But  it's  different  with  you.  I  don't  know 
how  to  say  it;  I'm  not  good  at  sentiment — not  that 
20  305 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

there's  any  sentiment  about  it.  At  least,  I  don't  mean 
that;  but —  You're  fond  of  me  in  a  sort  of  way,  ain't 
you?" 

"  Yes;  I'm  fond  of  you  in  a  sort  of  way." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  uneasily,  "  won't  you  marry 
me?  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  you  think;  and  you'll 
like  me  better  after  a  while." 

Lydia  became  very  pale.  "  Have  you  considered," 
she  said,  "  that  henceforth  you  will  be  an  idle  man, 
and  that  I  shall  always  be  a  busy  woman,  preoccupied 
with  the  work  that  may  seem  very  dull  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  won't  be  idle.  There's  lots  of  things  I  can  do 
besides  boxing.  We'll  get  on  together,  never  fear. 
People  that  are  fond  of  one  another  never  have  any 
difficulty;  and  people  that  hate  each  other  never  have 
any  comfort.  I'll  be  on  the  lookout  to  make  you 
happy.  You  needn't  fear  my  interrupting  your  Latin 
and  Greek:  I  won't  expect  you  to  give  up  your  whole 
life  to  me.  Why  should  I  ?  There's  reason  in  every- 
thing. So  long  as  you  are  mine,  and  nobody  else's, 
I'll  be  content.  And  I'll  be  yours  and  nobody  else's. 
What's  the  use  of  supposing  half  a  dozen  accidents 
that  may  never  happen  ?  Let's  sign  reasonable  arti- 
cles, and  then  take  our  chance.  You  have  too  much 
good-nature  ever  to  be  nasty." 

"  It  would  be  a  hard  bargain,"  she  said,  doubtfully: 
"  for  you  would  have  to  give  up  your  occupation;  and 
I  should  give  up  nothing  but  my  unfruitful  liberty." 

"  I  will  swear  never  to  fight  again;  and  you  needn't 
swear  anything.  If  that  is  not  an  easy  bargain,  I 
don't  know  what  is." 

306 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Easy  for  me,  yes.     But  for  you  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  me.  You  do  whatever  you  like;  and 
I'll  do  whatever  you  like.  You  have  a  conscience;  so 
I  know  that  whatever  you  like  will  be  the  best  thing. 
I  have  the  most  science;  but  you  have  the  most  sense. 
Come  ! " 

Lydia  looked  around,  as  if  for  a  means  of  escape. 
Cashel  waited  anxiously.     There  was  a  long  pause. 

"It  can't  be,"  he  said,  pathetically,  "that  you  are 
afraid  of  me  because  I  was  a  prize-fighter." 

"Afraid  of  you!  No:  I  am  afraid  of  myself; 
afraid  of  the  future;  afraid  for  you.  But  my  mind 
is  already  made  up  on  this  subject.  When  I  brought 
about  this  meeting  between  you  and  your  mother  I 
determined  to  marry  you  if  you  asked  me  again." 

She  stood  up,  quietly,  and  waited.  The  rough  hard- 
ihood of  the  ring  fell  from  him  like  a  garment:  he 
blushed  deeply,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Nor 
did  she;  but  without  willing  it  she  came  a  step  closer 
to  him,  and  turned  up  her  face  towards  his.  He, 
nearly  blind  with  confusion,  put  his  arms  about  her 
and  kissed  her.  Suddenly  she  broke  loose  from  his 
arms,  seized  the  lapels  of  his  coat  tightly  in  her  hands, 
and  leaned  back  until  she  nearly  hung  from  him  with 
all  her  weight. 

"Cashel,"  she  said,  "we  are  the  silliest  lovers  in 
the  world,  I  believe — we  know  nothing  about  it.  Are 
you  really  fond  of  me?" 

She  recovered  herself  immediately,  and  made  no 
further  demonstration  of  the  kind.  He  remained  shy, 
and  was  so  evidently  anxious  to  go,  that  she  presently 

307 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

asked  him  to  leave  her  for  a  while,  though  she  was 
surprised  to  feel  a  faint  pang  of  disappointment  when 
he  consented. 

On  leaving  the  house  he  hurried  to  the  address 
which  his  mother  had  given  him:  a  prodigious  build- 
ing in  Westminster,  divided  into  residential  flats,  to 
the  seventh  floor  of  which  he  ascended  in  a  lift.  As 
he  stepped  from  it  he  saw  Lucian  Webber  walking 
away  from  him  along  a  corridor.  Obeying  a  sudden 
impulse,  he  followed,  and  overtook  him  just  as  he  was 
entering  a  room.  Lucian,  finding  that  some  one  was 
resisting  his  attempt  to  close  the  door,  looked  out, 
recognized  Cashel,  turned  white,  and  hastily  retreated 
into  the  apartment,  where,  getting  behind  a  writing- 
table,  he  snatched  a  revolver  from  a  drawer.  Cashel 
recoiled,  amazed  and  frightened,  with  his  right  arm 
up  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  Hullo!"   he  cried.     "Drop  that  d d  thing, 

will  you  ?     If  you  don't,  I'll  shout  for  help." 

"  If  you  approach  me  I  will  fire,"  said  Lucian,  ex- 
citedly. "  I  will  teach  you  that  your  obsolete  bru- 
tality is  powerless  against  the  weapons  science  has  put 
into  the  hands  of  civilized  men.  Leave  my  apart- 
ments. I  am  not  afraid  of  you;  but  I  do  not  choose 
to  be  disturbed  by  your  presence." 

"Confound  your  cheek,"  said  Cashel,  indignantly; 
"is  that  the  way  you  receive  a  man  who  comes  to 
make  a  friendly  call  on  you  ?  " 

"  Friendly  now,  doubtless,  when  you  see  that  I  am 
well  protected." 

Cashel  gave  a  long  whistle.  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  you 
308 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

thought  I  came  to  pitch  into  you.  Ha  !  ha  !  And 
you  call  that  science — to  draw  a  pistol  on  a  man.  But 
you  daren't  fire  it,  and  well  you  know  it.  You'd 
better  put  it  up,  or  you  may  let  it  off  without  intend- 
ing to  :  I  never  feel  comfortable  when  I  see  a  fool 
meddling  with  firearms.  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I'm 
going  to  be  married  to  your  cousin.  Ain't  you 
glad?" 

Lucian's  face  changed.  He  believed;  but  he  said, 
obstinately,  "  I  don't  credit  that  statement.    It  is  a  lie." 

This  outraged  Cashel.  "  I  tell  you  again,"  he  said, 
in  a  menacing  tone,  "that  your  cousin  is  engaged  to 
me.  Now  call  me  a  liar,  and  hit  me  in  the  face,  if 
you  dare.  Look  here,"  he  added,  taking  a  leather 
case  from  his  pocket,  and  extracting  from  it  a  bank 
note,  "  I'll  give  you  that  twenty-pound  note  if  you 
will  hit  me  one  blow." 

Lucian,  sick  with  fury,  and  half  paralyzed  by  a  sen- 
sation which  he  would  not  acknowledge  as  fear,  forced 
himself  to  come  forward.  Cashel  thrust  out  his  jaw 
invitingly,  and  said,  with  a  sinister  grin,  "  Put  it  in 
straight,  governor.     Twenty  pounds,  remember." 

At  that  moment  Lucian  would  have  given  all  his 
political  and  social  chances  for  the  courage  and  skill 
of  a  prize-fighter.  He  could  see  only  one  way  to 
escape  the  torment  of  Cashel's  jeering  and  the  self- 
reproach  of  a  coward.  He  desperately  clenched  his 
fist  and  struck  out.  The  blow  wasted  itself  on  space; 
and  he  stumbled  forward  against  his  adversary,  who 
laughed  uproariously,  grasped  his  hand,  clapped  him 
on  the  back,  and  exclaimed, 

309 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Well  done,  my  boy.  I  thought  you  were  going 
to  be  mean;  but  you've  been  game,  and  you're  wel- 
come to  the  stakes.  I'll  tell  Lydia  that  you  have 
fought  me  for  twenty  pounds  and  won  on  your  merits. 
Ain't  you  proud  of  yourself  for  having  had  a  go  at 
the  champion?  " 

"  Sir — "  began  Lucian.  But  nothing  coherent  fol- 
lowed. 

"  You  just  sit  down  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
don't  drink  anything,  and  you'll  be  all  right.  When 
you  recover  you'll  be  glad  you  showed  pluck.  So, 
good-night,  for  the  present — I  know  how  you  feel,  and 
I'll  be  off.  Be  sure  not  to  try  to  settle  yourself  with 
wine;  it'll  only  make  you  worse.     Ta-ta  !  " 

As  Cashel  withdrew,  Lucian  collapsed  into  a  chair, 
shaken  by  the  revival  of  passions  and  jealousies  which 
he  had  thought  as  completely  outgrown  as  the  school- 
boy jackets  in  which  he  had  formerly  experienced 
them.  He  tried  to  think  of  some  justification  of  his 
anger — some  better  reason  for  it  than  the  vulgar  taunt 
of  a  bully.  He  told  himself  presently  that  the  idea 
of  Lydia  marrying  such  a  man  had  maddened  him  to 
strike.  As  Cashel  had  predicted,  he  was  beginning  to 
plume  himself  on  his  pluck.  This  vein  of  reflection, 
warring  with  his  inner  knowledge  that  he  had  been 
driven  by  fear  and  hatred  into  a  paroxysm  of  wrath 
against  a  man  to  whom  he  should  have  set  an  exam- 
ple of  dignified  self-control,  produced  an  exhausting 
whirl  in  his  thoughts,  which  were  at  once  quickened 
and  confused  by  the  nervous  shock  of  bodily  violence, 
to  which  he  was  quite  unused.     Unable  to  sit  still,  he 

310 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

rose,  put  on  his  hat,  went  out,  and  drove  to  the  house 
in  Regent's  Park. 

Lydia  was  in  her  boudoir,  occupied  with  a  book, 
when  he  entered.  He  was  not  an  acute  observer;  he 
could  see  no  change  in  her.  She  was  as  calm  as  ever; 
her  eyes  were  not  even  fully  open,  and  the  touch  of  her 
hand  subdued  him  as  it  had  always  done.  Though  he 
had  never  entertained  any  hope  of  possessing  her  since 
the  day  when  she  had  refused  him  in  Bedford  Square, 
a  sense  of  intolerable  loss  came  upon  him  as  he  saw 
her  for  the  first  time  pledged  to  another — and  such 
another  ! 

"  Lydia,"  he  said,  trying  to  speak  vehemently,  but 
failing  to  shake  off  the  conventional  address  of  which 
he  had  made  a  second  nature,  "I  have  heard  some- 
thing that  has  filled  me  with  inexpressible  dismay.  Is 
it  true?" 

"  The  news  has  travelled  fast,"  she  said.  "  Yes;  it 
is  true."  She  spoke  composedly,  and  so  kindly  that 
he  choked  in  trying  to  reply. 

"  Then,  Lydia,  you  are  the  chief  actor  in  a  greater 
tragedy  than  I  have  ever  witnessed  on  the  stage." 

"It  is  strange,  is  it  not?"  she  said,  smiling  at  his 
effort  to  be  impressive. 

"  Strange  !  It  is  calamitous.  I  trust  I  may  be  al- 
lowed to  say  so.  And  you  sit  there  reading  as  calmly 
as  though  nothing  had  happened." 

She  handed  him  the  book  without  a  word. 

"  <  Ivanhoe  '  !  "  he  said.     "  A  novel  !  " 

"Yes.  Do  you  remember  once,  before  you  knew 
me  very  well,  telling  me  that  Scott's  novels  were  the 

311 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

only  ones  that  you  liked  to  see  in  the  hands  of 
ladies?" 

"  No  doubt  I  did.  But  I  cannot  talk  of  literature 
just—" 

"lam  not  leading  you  away  from  what  you  want  to 
talk  about.  I  was  about  to  tell  you  that  I  came  upon 
6  Ivanhoe '  by  chance  half  an  hour  ago,  when  I  was 
searching — I  confess  it — for  something  very  romantic 
to  read.  Ivanhoe  was  a  prize-fighter — the  first  half  of 
the  book  is  a  description  of  a  prize-fight.  I  was  won- 
dering whether  some  romancer  of  the  twenty-fourth 
century  will  hunt  out  the  exploits  of  my  husband,  and 
present  him  to  the  world  as  a  sort  of  English  nine- 
teenth-century Cyd,  with  all  the  glory  of  antiquity 
upon  his  deeds." 

Lucian  made  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "  I  have 
never  been  able  to  understand,"  he  said,  "how  it  is 
that  a  woman  of  your  ability  can  habitually  dwell  on 
perverse  and  absurd  ideas.  Oh,  Lydia,  is  this  to  be 
the  end  of  all  your  great  gifts  and  attainments? 
Forgive  me  if  I  touch  a  painful  chord;  but  this  mar- 
riage seems  to  me  so  unnatural  that  I  must  speak  out. 
Your  father  made  you  one  of  the  richest  and  best- 
educated  women  in  the  world.  Would  he  approve  of 
what  you  are  about  to  do  ?  " 

"  It  almost  seems  to  me  that  he  educated  me  ex- 
pressly to  some  such  end.  Whom  would  you  have  me 
marry?  " 

"  Doubtless  few  men  are  worthy  of  yon,  Lydia. 
But  this  man  least  of  all.  Could  you  not  marry  a 
gentleman  ?    If  he  were  even  an  artist,  a  poet,  or  a 

312 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

man  of  genius  of  any  kind,  I  could  bear  to  think  of 
it;  for  indeed  I  am  not  influenced  by  class  prejudice 
in  the  matter.  But  a — I  will  try  to  say  nothing  that 
you  must  not  in  justice  admit  to  be  too  obvious  to  be 
ignored — a  man  of  the  lower  orders,  pursuing  a  calling 
which  even  the  lower  orders  despise;  illiterate,  rough, 
awaiting  at  this  moment  a  disgraceful  sentence  at  the 
hands  of  the  law  !  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  con- 
sidered all  these  things? " 

'*  Not  very  deeply;  they  are  not  of  a  kind  to  concern 
me  much.  I  can  console  you  as  to  one  of  them.  I 
have  always  recognized  him  as  a  gentleman,  in  your 
sense  of  the  word.  He  proves  to  be  so — one  of  consid- 
erable position,  in  fact.  As  to  his  approaching  trial, 
I  have  spoken  with  Lord  Worthington  about  it,  and 
also  with  the  lawyers  who  have  charge  of  the  case;  and 
they  say  positively  that,  owing  to  certain  proofs  not 
being  in  the  hands  of  the  police,  a  defence  can  be  set 
up  that  will  save  him  from  imprisonment." 

"There  is  no  such  defence  possible,"  said  Lucian, 
angrily. 

"  Perhaps  not.  As  far  as  I  understand  it,  it  is 
rather  an  aggravation  of  the  offence  than  an  excuse 
for  it.  But  if  they  imprison  him  it  will  make  no 
difference.  He  can  console  himself  by  the  certainty 
that  I  will  marry  him  at  once  when  he  is  released." 

Lucian's  face  lengthened.  He  abandoned  the  argu- 
ment, and  said,  blankly,  "  I  cannot  suppose  that  you 
would  allow  yourself  to  be  deceived.  If  he  is  a  gen- 
tleman of  position,  that  of  course  alters  the  case  com- 
pletely." 

313 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Very  little  indeed  from  my  point  of  view.  Hardly 
at  all.  And  now,  worldly  cousin  Lucian,  I  have  sat- 
isfied you  that  I  am  not  going  to  connect  you  by  mar- 
riage with  a  butcher,  bricklayer,  or  other  member  of 
the  trades  from  which  Cashel 's  profession,  as  you 
warned  me,  is  usually  recruited.  Stop  a  moment.  I 
am  going  to  do  justice  to  you.  You  want  to  say  that 
my  unworldly  friend  Lucian  is  far  more  deeply  con- 
cerned at  seeing  the  phoenix  of  modern  culture  throw 
herself  away  on  a  man  unworthy  of  her." 

"  That  is  what  I  mean  to  say,  except  that  you  put 
it  too  modestly.  It  is  a  case  of  the  phoenix,  not  only 
of  modern  culture,  but  of  natural  endowment  and  of 
every  happy  accident  of  the  highest  civilization, 
throwing  herself  away  on  a  man  specially  incapaci- 
tated by  his  tastes  and  pursuits  from  comprehending 
her  or  entering  the  circle  in  which  she  moves." 

"Listen  to  me  patiently,  Lucian,  and  I  will  try  to 
explain  the  mystery  to  you,  leaving  the  rest  of  the 
world  to  misunderstand  me  as  it  pleases.  First,  you 
will  grant  me  that  even  a  phoenix  must  marry  some 
one  in  order  that  she  may  hand  on  her  torch  to  her 
children.  Her  best  course  would  be  to  marry  another 
phoenix;  but  as  she — poor  girl  ! — cannot  appreciate 
even  her  own  phoenixity,  much  less  that  of  another, 
she  must  perforce  be  content  with  a  mere  mortal. 
Who  is  the  mortal  to  be?  Not  her  cousin  Lucian; 
for  rising  young  politicians  must  have  helpful  wives, 
with  feminine  politics  and  powers  of  visiting  and  en- 
tertaining; a  description  inapplicable  to  the  phoenix. 
Not,  as  you   just  now  suggested,  a   man  of  letters. 

314 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

The  phoenix  has  had  her  share  of  playing  helpmeet  to 
a  man  of  letters,  and  does  not  care  to  repeat  that  expe- 
rience. She  is  sick  to  death  of  the  morbid  introspec- 
tion and  womanish  self-consciousness  of  poets,  novel- 
ists, and  their  like.  As  to  artists,  all  the  good  ones 
are  married;  and  ever  since  the  rest  have  been  able 
to  read  in  hundreds  of  books  that  they  are  the  most 
gifted  and  godlike  of  men,  they  are  become  almost 
as  intolerable  as  their  literary  flatterers.  No,  Lucian, 
the  phoenix  has  paid  her  debt  to  literature  and  art  by 
the  toil  of  her  childhood.  She  will  use  and  enjoy 
both  of  them  in  future  as  best  she  can;  but  she  will 
never  again  drudge  in  their  laboratories.  You  say 
that  she  might  at  least  have  married  a  gentleman. 
But  the  gentlemen  she  knows  are  either  amateurs  of 
the  arts,  having  the  egotism  of  professional  artists 
without  their  ability,  or  they  are  men  of  pleasure, 
which  means  that  they  are  dancers,  tennis-players, 
butchers,  and  gamblers.  I  leave  the  nonentities  out 
of  the  question,  Now,  in  the  eyes  of  a  phoenix,  a 
prize-fighter  is  a  hero  in  comparison  with  a  wretch 
who  sets  a  leash  of  greyhounds  upon  a  hare.  Imagine, 
now,  this  poor  phoenix  meeting  with  a  man  who  had 
never  been  guilty  of  self-analysis  in  his  life — who  com- 
plained when  he  was  annoyed,  and  exulted  when  he 
was  glad,  like  a  child  (aud  unlike  a  modern  man) — 
who  was  honest  and  brave,  strong  and  beautiful.  You 
open  your  eyes,  Lucian:  you  do  not  do  justice  to 
Cashel's  good  looks.  He  is  twenty-five,  and  yet  there 
is  not  a  line  in  his  face.  It  is  neither  thoughtful,  nor 
poetic,  nor  wearied,  nor  doubting,  nor  old,  nor  self- 

315 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

conscious,  as  so  many  of  his  contemporaries'  faces  are 
— as  mine  perhaps  is.  The  face  of  a  pagan  god,  as- 
sured of  eternal  youth,  and  absolutely  disqualified 
from  comprehending  'Faust.'  Do  you  understand  a 
word  of  what  I  am  saying,  Lucian  ?  " 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  do  not.  Either  you  have 
lost  your  reason,  or  I  have.  I  wish  you  had  never 
taking  to  reading  '  Faust.'  " 

"  It  is  my  fault.  I  began  an  explanation,  and  ram- 
bled off,  womanlike,  into  praise  of  my  lover.  How- 
ever, I  will  not  attempt  to  complete  my  argument ; 
for  if  you  do  not  understand  me  from  what  I  have 
already  said,  the  further  you  follow  the  wider  you 
will  wander.  The  truth,  in  short,  is  this  :  I  prac- 
tically believe  in  the  doctrine  of  heredity  ;  and  as  my 
body  is  frail  and  my  brain  morbidly  active,  I  think 
my  impulse  towards  a  man  strong  in  body  and  un- 
troubled in  mind  a  trustworthy  one.  You  can  under- 
stand that;  it  is  a  plain  proposition  in  eugenics.  But 
if  I  tell  you  that  I  have  chosen  this  common  pugilist 
because,  after  seeing  half  the  culture  of  Europe,  I 
despaired  of  finding  a  better  man,  you  will  only  tell 
me  again  that  I  have  lost  my  reason." 

"  I  know  that  you  will  do  whatever  you  have  mad$ 
up  your  mind  to  do,"  said  Lucian,  desolately. 

"  And  you  will  make  the  best  of  it,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  The  best  or  the  worst  of  it  does  not  rest  with  me, 
I  can  only  accept  it  as  inevitable." 

"  Not  at  all.  You  can  make  the  worst  of  it  by  be- 
having distantly  to  Cashel ;  or  the  best  of  it  by  being 
friendly  with  him." 

316 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Lucian  reddened  and  hesitated.  She  looked  at  him,, 
mutely  encouraging  him  to  be  generous. 

"I  had  better  tell  you,"  he  said.  "I  have  seen 
him  since — since — "  Lydia  nodded.  "  I  mistook  his 
object  in  coming  into  my  room  as  he  did,  unan- 
nounced. In  fact,  he  almost  forced  his  way  in.  Some 
words  arose  between  us.  At  last  he  taunted  me  be- 
yond endurance,  and  offered  me — characteristically — 
twenty  pounds  to  strike  him.  And  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  I  did  so." 

"  You  did  so !     And  what  followed  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  rather  that  I  meant  to  strike  him;  for 
he  avoided  me,  or  else  I  missed  my  aim.  He  only 
gave  the  money  and  went  away,  evidently  with  a  high 
opinion  of  me.  He  left  me  with  a  very  low  one  of 
myself." 

"  What !  He  did  not  retaliate  !  "  exclaimed  Lydia, 
recovering  her  color,  which  had  fled.  "And  you 
struck  him  !  "  she  added. 

"He  did  not,"  replied  Lucian,  passing  by  the  re- 
proach.    "  Probably  he  despised  me  too  much." 

"  That  is  not  fair,  Lucian.  He  behaved  very  well 
— for  a  prize-fighter  !  Surely  you  do  not  grudge  him 
his  superiority  in  the  very  art  you  condemn  him  for 
professing." 

"I  was  wrong,  Lydia;  but  I  grudged  him  you.  I 
know  I  have  acted  hastily;  and  I  will  apologize  to 
him.     I  wish  matters  had  fallen  out  otherwise." 

"They  could  not  have  done  so;  and  I  believe  you 
will  yet  acknowledge  that  they  have  arranged  them- 
selves very  well.     And  now  that  the  phoenix  is  dis- 

317 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

posed  of,  I  want  to  read  you  a  letter  I  have  received 
from  Alice  Goff,  which  throws  quite  a  new  light  on 
her  character.  I  have  not  seen  her  since  June,  and 
she  seems  to  have  gained  three  years'  mental  growth 
in  the  interim.     Listen  to  this,  for  example." 

And  so  the  conversation  turned  upon  Alice. 

When  Lucian  returned  to  his  chambers,  he  wrote 
the  following  note,  which  he  posted  to  Cashel  Byron 
before  going  to  bed : 

"  Dear  Sir, — I  beg  to  enclose  you  a  bank-note  which 
you  left  here  this  evening.  I  feel  bound  to  express 
my  regret  for  what  passed  on  that  occasion,  and  to 
assure  you  that  it  proceeded  from  a  misapprehension 
of  your  purpose  in  calling  on  me.  The  nervous  dis- 
order into  which  the  severe  mental  application  and 
late  hours  of  the  past  session  have  thrown  me  must  be 
my  excuse.  I  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
you  again  soon,  and  offering  you  personally  my  con- 
gratulations on  your  approaching  marriage. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  truly, 

"  Lucian  Webber." 


318 


CHAPTER  XV 

In  the  following  month  Cashel  Byron,  William 
Paradise,  and  Kobert  Mellish  appeared  in  the  dock 
together,  the  first  two  for  having  been  principals  in  a 
prize-fight,  and  Mellish  for  having  acted  as  bottle- 
holder  to  Paradise.  These  offences  were  verbosely 
described  in  a  long  indictment  which  had  originally 
included  the  fourth  man  who  had  been  captured,  but 
against  whom  the  grand  jury  had  refused  to  find  a 
true  bill.     The  prisoners  pleaded  not  guilty. 

The  defence  was  that  the  fight,  the  occurrence  of 
which  was  admitted,  was  not  a  prize-fight,  but  the 
outcome  of  an  enmity  which  had  subsisted  between  the 
two  men  since  one  of  them,  at  a  public  exhibition  at 
Islington,  had  attacked  and  bitten  the  other.  In  sup- 
port of  this,  it  was  shown  that  Byron  had  occupied  a 
house  at  Wiltstoken,  and  had  lived  there  with  Mellish, 
who  had  invited  Paradise  to  spend  a  holiday  with  him 
in  the  country.  This  accounted  for  the  presence  of 
the  three  men  at  Wiltstoken  on  the  day  in  question. 
Words  had  arisen  between  Byron  and  Paradise  on  the 
subject  of  the  Islington  affair;  and  they  had  at  last 
agreed  to  settle  the  dispute  in  the  old  English  fashion. 
They  had  adjourned  to  a  field,  and  fought  fairly  and 
determinedly  until   interrupted  by  the  police,   who 

319 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

were  misled  by  appearances  into  the  belief  that  the 
affair  was  a  prize-fight. 

Prize-fighting  was  a  brutal  pastime,  Cashel  Byron's 
counsel  said;  but  a  fair,  stand-up  fight  between  two 
unarmed  men,  though  doubtless  technically  a  breach 
of  the  peace,  had  never  been  severely  dealt  with  by  a 
British  jury  or  a  British  judge;  and  the  case  would 
be  amply  met  by  binding  over  the  prisoners,  who  were 
now  on  the  best  of  terms  with  one  another,  to  keep 
the  peace  for  a  reasonable  period.  The  sole  evidence 
against  this  view  of  the  case,  he  argued,  was  police 
evidence;  and  the  police  were  naturally  reluctant  to 
admit  that  they  had  found  a  mare's  nest.  In  proof 
that  the  fight  had  been  premeditated,  and  was  a  prize- 
fight, they  alleged  that  it  had  taken  place  within  an 
enclosure  formed  with  ropes  and  stakes.  But  where 
were  those  ropes  and  stakes  ?  They  were  not  forth- 
coming; and  he  (counsel)  submitted  that  the  reason 
was  not,  as  had  been  suggested,  because  they  had  been 
spirited  away,  for  that  was  plainly  impossible;  but  be- 
cause they  had  existed  only  in  the  excited  imagination 
of  the  posse  of  constables  who  had  arrested  the  pris-  - 
oners. 

Again,  it  had  been  urged  that  the  prisoners  were  in 
fighting  costume.  But  cross-examination  had  elicited 
that  fighting  costume  meant  practically  no  costume  at 
all :  the  men  had  simply  stripped  in  order  that  their 
movements  might  be  unembarrassed.  It  had  been 
proved  that  Paradise  had  been — well,  in  the  tradi- 
tional costume  of  Paradise  (roars  of  laughter)  until  the 
police  borrowed  a  blanket  to  put  upon  him. 

320 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

That  the  constables  had  been  guilty  of  gross  exag- 
geration was  shown  by  their  evidence  as  to  the  des- 
perate injuries  the  combatants  had  inflicted  upon  one 
another.  Of  Paradise  in  particular  it  had  been  alleged 
that  his  features  were  obliterated.  The  jury  had  be- 
fore them  in  the  dock  the  man  whose  features  had 
been  obliterated  only  a  few  weeks  previously.  If  that 
were  true,  where  had  the  prisoner  obtained  the  un- 
blemished lineaments  which  he  was  now,  full  of  health 
and  good-humor,  presenting  to  them?  (Kenewed 
laughter.  Paradise  grinning  in  confusion.)  It  was 
said  that  these  terrible  injuries,  the  traces  of  which 
had  disappeared  so  miraculously,  were  inflicted  by  the 
prisoner  Byron,  a  young  gentleman  tenderly  nurtured, 
and  visibly  inferior  in  strength  and  hardihood  to  his 
herculean  opponent.  Doubtless  Byron  had  been  em- 
boldened by  his  skill  in  mimic  combat  to  try  con- 
clusions, under  the  very  different  conditions  of  real 
fighting,  with  a  man  whose  massive  shoulders  and  de- 
termined cast  of  features  ought  to  have  convinced  him 
that  such  an  enterprise  was  nothing  short  of  desper- 
ate. Fortunately  the  police  had  interfered  before  he 
had  suffered  severely  for  his  rashness.  Yet  it  had 
been  alleged  that  he  had  actually  worsted  Paradise  in 
the  encounter — obliterated  his  features.  That  was  a 
fair  sample  of  the  police  evidence,  which  was  through- 
out consistently  inctedible  and  at  variance  with  the 
dictates  of  common-sense. 

Attention  was  then  drawn  to  the  honorable  manner 
in  which  Byron  had  come  forward  and  given  himself 
up  to  the  police  the  moment  he  became  aware  that 
21  321 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

they  were  in  search  of  him.  Paradise  would,  beyond 
a  doubt,  have  adopted  the  same  course  had  he  not 
been  arrested  at  once,  and  that,  too,  without  the  least 
effort  at  resistance  on  his  part.  That  was  hardly  the 
line  of  conduct  that  would  have  suggested  itself  to 
two  lawless  prize-fighters. 

An  attempt  had  been  made  to  prejudice  the  pris- 
oner Byron  by  the  statement  that  he  was  a  notorious 
professional  bruiser.  But  no  proof  of  that  was  forth- 
coming; and  if  the  fact  were  really  notorious  there 
could  be  no  difficulty  in  proving  it.  Such  notoriety 
as  Mr.  Byron  enjoyed  was  due,  as  appeared  from  the 
evidence  of  Lord  Worthington  and  others,  to  his  ap- 
proaching marriage  to  a  lady  of  distinction.  Was  it 
credible  that  a  highly  connected  gentleman  in  this 
enviable  position  would  engage  in  a  prize-fight,  risking 
disgrace  and  personal  disfigurement,  for  a  sum  of 
money  that  could  be  no  object  to  him,  or  for  a  glory 
that  would  appear  to  all  his  friends  as  little  better 
than  infamy? 

The  whole  of  the  evidence  as  to  the  character  of 
the  prisoners  went  to  show  that  they  were  men  of  un- 
impeachable integrity  and  respectability.  An  impres- 
sion unfavorable  to  Paradise  might  have  been  created 
by  the  fact  that  he  was  a  professional  pugilist  and  a 
man  of  hasty  temper;  but  it  had  also  transpired  that 
he  had  on  several  occasions  rendered  assistance  to  the 
police,  thereby  employing  his  skill  and  strength  in  the 
interests  of  law  and  order.  As  to  his  temper,  it  ac- 
counted for  the  quarrel  which  the  police — knowing  his 
profession — had  mistaken  for  a  prize-fight. 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Mellish  was  a  trainer  of  athletes,  and  hence  the  wit- 
nesses to  his  character  were  chiefly  persons  connected 
with  sport;  but  they  were  not  the  less  worthy  of  cre- 
dence on  that  account. 

In  fine,  the  charge  would  have  been  hard  to  believe 
even  if  supported  by  the  strongest  evidence.  But 
when  there  was  no  evidence — when  the  police  had 
failed  to  produce  any  of  the  accessories  of  a  prize-fight 
— when  there  were  no  ropes  nor  posts — no  written 
articles — no  stakes  nor  stakeholders — no  seconds  except 
the  unfortunate  man  Mellish,  whose  mouth  was  closed 
by  a  law  which,  in  defiance  of  the  obvious  interests  of 
justice,  forbade  a  prisoner  to  speak  and  clear  himself 
— nothing,  in  fact,  but  the  fancies  of  constables  who 
had,  under  cross-examination,  not  only  contradicted 
one  another,  but  shown  the  most  complete  ignorance 
(a  highly  creditable  ignorance)  of  the  nature  and  con- 
ditions of  a  prize-fight ;  then  counsel  would  venture  to 
say  confidently  that  the  theory  of  the  prosecution, 
ingenious  as  it  was,  and  ably  as  it  had  been  put  for- 
ward, was  absolutely  and  utterly  untenable. 

This,  and  much  more  argument  of  equal  value,  was 
delivered  with  relish  by  a  comparatively  young  bar- 
rister, whose  spirits  rose  as  he  felt  the  truth  change  and 
fade  while  he  rearranged  its  attendant  circumstances. 
Cashel  listened  for  some  time  anxiously.  He  flushed 
and  looked  moody  when  his  marriage  was  alluded  to; 
but  when  the  whole  defence  was  unrolled,  he  was 
awestruck,  and  stared  at  his  advocate  as  if  he  half 
feared  that  the  earth  would  gape  and  swallow  such  a 
reckless  perverter  of  patent  facts.    Even  the  judge 

323 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

smiled  once  or  twice;  and  when  he  did  so  the  jurymen 
grinned,  but  recovered  their  solemnity  suddenly  when 
the  bench  recollected  itself  and  became  grave  again. 
Every  one  in  court  knew  that  the  police  were  right — 
that  there  had  been  a  prize-fight — that  the  betting  on 
it  had  been  recorded  in  all  the  sporting  papers  for 
weeks  beforehand — that  Cashel  was  the  most  terrible 
fighting  man  of  the  day,  and  that  Paradise  had  not 
dared  to  propose  a  renewal  of  the  interrupted  contest. 
And  they  listened  with  admiration  and  delight  while 
the  advocate  proved  that  these  things  were  incredible 
and  nonsensical. 

*It  remained  for  the  judge  to  sweep  away  the  de- 
fence, or  to  favor  the  prisoners  by  countenancing  it. 
Fortunately  for  them,  he  was  an  old  man;  and  could 
recall,  not  without  regret,  a  time  when  the  memory  of 
Cribb  and  Molyneux  was  yet  green.  He  began  his 
summing-up  by  telling  the  jury  that  the  police  had 
failed  to  prove  that  the  fight  was  a  prize-fight.  After 
that,  the  public,  by  indulging  in  roars  of  laughter 
whenever  they  could  find  a  pretext  for  doing  so  with- 
out being  turned  out  of  court,  showed  that  they  had 
ceased  to  regard  the  trial  seriously. 

Finally  the  jury  acquitted  Mellish,  and  found  Cashel 
and  Paradise  guilty  of  a  common  assault.  They  were 
sentenced  to  two  days'  imprisonment,  and  bound 
over  to  keep  the  peace  for  twelve  months  in  sureties  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  each.  The  sureties 
were  forthcoming;  and  as  the  imprisonment  was  sup- 
posed to  date  from  the  beginning  of  the  sessions,  the 
prisoners  were  at  once  released. 

324 


CHAPTEE  XVI 

Miss  Cakew,  averse  to  the  anomalous  relations  of 
courtship,  made  as  little  delay  as  possible  in  getting 
married.  Cashel's  luck  was  not  changed  by  the  event. 
Bingley  Byron  died  three  weeks  after  the  ceremony 
(which  was  civic  and  private);  and  Cashel  had  to  claim 
possession  of  the  property  in  Dorsetshire,  in  spite  of 
his  expressed  wish  that  the  lawyers  would,  take  them- 
selves and  the  property  to  the  devil,  and  allow  him  to 
enjoy  his  honeymoon  in  peace.  The  transfer  was  not, 
however,  accomplished  at  once.  Owing  to  his  moth- 
er's capricious  reluctance  to  give  the  necessary  in- 
formation without  reserve,  and  to  the  law's  delay,  his 
first  child  was  born  some  time  before  his  succession 
was  fully  established  and  the  doors  of  his  ancestral 
hall  opened  to  him.  The  conclusion  of  the  business 
was  a  great  relief  to  his  attorneys,  who  had  been  un- 
able to  shake  his  conviction  that  the  case  was  clear 
enough,  but  that  the  referee  had  been  squared.  By 
this  he  meant  that  the  Lord  Chancellor  had  been 
bribed  to  keep  him  out  of  his  property. 

His  marriage  proved  an  unusually  happy  one.  To 
make  up  for  the  loss  of  his  occupation,  he  farmed,  and 
lost  six  thousand  pounds  by  it;  tried  gardening  with 
better  success;  began  to  meddle  in  commercial  enter- 
prises, and  became  director  of  several  trading  companies 

325 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

in  the  city;  and  was  eventually  invited  to  represent  a 
Dorsetshire  constituency  in  Parliament  in  the  Eadical 
interest.  He  was  returned  by  a  large  majority;  and, 
having  a  loud  voice  and  an  easy  manner,  he  soon  ac- 
quired some  reputation  both  in  and  out  of  the  House 
of  Commons  by  the  popularity  of  his  own  views,  and 
the  extent  of  his  wife's  information,  which  he  retailed 
at  second  hand.  He  made  his  maiden  speech  in  the 
House  unabashed  the  first  night  he  sat  there.  Indeed, 
he  was  afraid  of  nothing  except  burglars,  big  dogs, 
doctors,  dentists,  and  street-crossings.  Whenever  any 
accident  occurred  through  any  of  these  he  preserved 
the  newspaper  in  which  it  was  reported,  read  it  to 
Lydia  very  seriously,  and  repeated  his  favorite  asser- 
tion that  the  only  place  in  which  a  man  was  safe  was 
the  ring.  As  he  objected  to  most  field  sports  on  the 
ground  of  inhumanity,  she,  fearing  that  he  would 
suffer  in  health  and  appearance  from  want  of  syste- 
matic exercise,  suggested  that  he  should  resume  the 
practice  of  boxing  with  gloves.  But  he  was  lazy  in 
this  matter,  and  had  a  prejudice  that  boxing  did  not 
become  a  married  man.  His  career  as  a  pugilist  was 
closed  by  his  marriage. 

His  admiration  for  his  wife  survived  the  ardor  of  his 
first  love  for  her,  and  she  employed  all  her  fore- 
thought not  to  disappoint  his  reliance  on  her  judg- 
ment. She  led  a  busy  life,  and  wrote  some  learned 
monographs,  as  well  as  a  work  in  which  she  denounced 
education  as  practised  in  the  universities  and  public 
schools.  Her  children  inherited  her  acuteness  and 
refinement  with  their  father's  robustness  and  aversion 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

to  study.  They  were  precocious  and  impudent,  had  no 
respect  for  Cashel,  and  showed  any  they  had  for  their 
mother  principally  by  running  to  her  when  they  were 
in  difficulties.  She  never  punished  nor  scolded  them; 
but  she  contrived  to  make  their  misdeeds  recoil  natu- 
rally upon  them  so  inevitably  that  they  soon  acquired 
a  lively  moral  sense  which  restrained  them  much  more 
effectually  than  the  usual  methods  of  securing  order 
in  the  nursery.  Cashel  treated  them  kindly  for  the 
purpose  of  conciliating  them ;  and  when  Lydia  spoke 
of  them  to  him  in  private,  lie  seldom  said  more  than 
that  the  imps  were  too  sharp  for  him,  or  that  he  was 
blest  if  he  didn't  believe  that  they  were  born  older 
than  their  father.  Lydia  often  thought  so  too;  but 
the  care  of  this  troublesome  family  had  one  advantage 
for  her.  It  left  her  little  time  to  think  about  herself, 
or  about  the  fact  that  when  the  illusion  of  her  love 
passed  away  Cashel  fell  in  her  estimation.  But  the 
children  were  a  success;  and  she  soon  came  to  regard 
him  as  one  of  them.  When  she  had  leisure  to  con- 
sider the  matter  at  all,  which  seldom  occurred,  it 
seemed  to  her  that,  on  the  whole,  she  had  chosen 
wisely. 

Alice  Goff,  when  she  heard  of  Lydia's  projected 
marriage,  saw  that  she  must  return  to  Wiltstoken, 
and  forget  her  brief  social  splendor  as  soon  as  possible. 
She  therefore  thanked  Miss  Carew  for  her  bounty, 
and  begged  to  relinquish  her  post  of  companion. 
Lydia  assented,  but  managed  to  delay  this  sacrifice  to 
a  sense  of  duty  and  necessity  until  a  day  early  in 
winter,  when  Lucian  gave  way  to  a  hankering  after 

327 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

domestic  joys  that  possessed  him,  and  allowed  his 
cousin  to  persuade  him  to  offer  his  hand  to  Alice.  She 
indignantly  refused — not  that  she  had  any  reason  to 
complain  of  him,  but  because  the  prospect  of  return- 
ing to  Wiltstoken  made  her  feel  ill  used,  and  she 
could  not  help  revenging  her  soreness  upon  the  first 
person  whom  she  could  find  a  pretext  for  attacking. 
He,  lukewarm  before,  now  became  eager,  and  she 
was  induced  to  relent  without  much  difficulty.  Lucian 
was  supposed  to  have  made  a  brilliant  match;  and,  as 
it  proved,  he  made  a  fortunate  one.  She  kept  his 
house,  entertained  his  guests,  and  took  charge  of  his 
social  connections  so  ably  that  in  course  of  time  her 
invitations  came  to  be  coveted  by  people  who  were 
desirous  of  moving  in  good  society.  She  was  even 
better  looking  as  a  matron  than  she  had  been  as  a 
girl;  and  her  authority  in  matters  of  etiquette  inspired 
nervous  novices  with  all  the  terrors  she  had  herself 
felt  when  she  first  visited  Wiltstoken  Castle.  She  in- 
vited her  brother-in-law  and  his  wife  to  dinner  twice 
a  year — at  midsummer  and  Easter;  but  she  never 
admitted  that  either  Wallace  Parker  or  Cashel  Byron 
were  gentlemen,  although  she  invited  the  latter  freely, 
notwithstanding  the  frankness  with  which  he  spoke  to 
strangers  after  dinner  of  his  former  exploits,  without 
deference  to  their  professions  or  prejudices.  Her  re- 
spect for  Lydia  remained  so  great  that  she  never  com- 
plained to  her  of  Cashel  save  on  one  occasion,  when 
he  had  shown  a  bishop,  whose  house  had  been  recently 
broken  into  and  robbed,  how  to  break  a  burglar's  back 
in  the  act  of  grappling  with  him. 

328 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

The  Skenes  returned  to  Australia  and  went  their 
way  there,  as  Mrs.  Byron  did  in  England,  in  the  paths 
they  had  pursued  for  years  before.  Cashel  spoke 
always  of  Mrs.  Skene  as  "  mother,"  and  of  Mrs.  Byron 
as  "  mamma." 

William  Paradise,  though  admired  by  the  fair  sex 
for  his  strength,  courage,  and  fame,  was  not,  like 
Cashel  and  Skene,  wise  or  fortunate  enough  to  get  a 
good  wife.  He  drank  so  exceedingly  that  he  had  but 
few  sober  intervals  after  his  escape  from  the  law.  He 
claimed  the  title  of  champion  of  England  on  Cashel's 
retirement  from  the  ring,  and  challenged  the  world. 
The  world  responded  in  the  persons  of  sundry  young 
laboring  men  with  a  thirst  for  glory  and  a  taste  for 
fighting.  Paradise  fought  and  prevailed  twice.  Then 
he  drank  while  in  training,  and  was  beaten.  But  by 
this  time  the  ring  had  again  fallen  into  the  disrepute 
from  which  Cashel's  unusual  combination  of  pugilistic 
genius  with  honesty  had  temporarily  raised  it;  and 
the  law,  again  seizing  Paradise  as  he  was  borne  van- 
quished from  the  field,  atoned  for  its  former  leniency 
by  incarcerating  him  for  six  months.  The  abstinence 
thus  enforced  restored  him  to  health  and  vigor;  and 
he  achieved  another  victory  before  he  succeeded  in 
drinking  himself  into  his  former  state.  This  was  his 
last  triumph.  With  his  natural  ruffianism  complicated 
by  drunkenness,  he  went  rapidly  down  the  hill  into 
the  valley  of  humiliation.  After  becoming  noted  for 
his  readiness  to  sell  the  victories  he  could  no  longer 
win,  he  only  appeared  in  the  ring  to  test  the  capabil- 
ities of  untried  youths,  who  beat  him  to  their  hearts' 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

content.  He  became  a  potman,  and  was  immediately 
discharged  as  an  inebriate.  He  had  sunk  into  beggary 
when,  hearing  in  his  misery  that  his  former  antago- 
nist was  contesting  a  parliamentary  election,  he  applied 
to  him  for  alms.  Cashel  at  the  time  was  in  Dorset- 
shire; but  Lydia  relieved  the  destitute  wretch,  whose 
condition  was  now  far  worse  than  it  had  been  at  their 
last  meeting.  At  his  next  application,  which  followed 
soon,  he  was  confronted  by  Cashel,  who  bullied  him 
fiercely,  threatened  to  break  every  bone  in  his  skin  if 
he  ever  again  dared  to  present  himself  before  Lydia, 
flung  him  five  shillings,  and  bade  him  be  gone.  For 
Cashel  retained  for  Parjtdise  that  contemptuous  and 
ruthless  hatred  in  which  a  duly  qualified  professor 
holds  a  quack.  Paradise  I  ought  a  few  pence-worth  of 
food,  which  he  could  hardl;  eat,  and  spent  the  rest  in 
brandy,  which  he  drank  aB  ivist  as  his  stomach  would 
endure  it.  Shortly  afterwardp  a  few  sporting  papers 
reported  his  death,  which  they  attributed  to  "con- 
sumption, brought  on  by  the  terribJ  >  injuries  sustained 
by  him  in  his  celebrated  fight  with  Cashel  Byron." 


%U 


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7TiF  M/tVJ  2o7-EAM 


UG    8  1952  UWIN     "*  J»/ 1  ~ 
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LD  21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


AM4 


a 


If  Of 


